Origin of Porygon
by SushiJaguar
Summary: Join the first artificial Pokemon on his journey as he attempts to unravel the mystery of humanity and his own creation.
1. Prologue: It's Alive!

Origin of Porygon

By SushiJaguar

A soft glow dimly lit the small lab. The light source was a computer monitor perched atop a clean, sterile-smelling desk that was covered with scattered pieces of paper. The monitor's light shone through the glass beakers and apparatus on the other side fo the pokey room, reflecting back on itself. The bouncing rays were invisible to the closed eyes of the man slumped at the desk. The only sound was the slight breathing of the man and the whirring of the computer.

The soft light flickered for a moment, before the lab was plunged into utter darkness. Oblivious, the man slept on, mumbling to himself sleepily. Then the door to the lab swung open, crashing into the doorstop with a muted thud. Another man, wearing a lab coat and glasses strode into the lab, groping blindly for the lightswitch. His clumsy fingers found it and flicked it up, down and twice again before snorting disgustedly.

"Another power cut." He muttered, reaching out in front of him as he walked across the room. The tips of his fingers brushed glass, but the man felt nothing. His outreached arms swiped through the delicate beakers standing on their shelves, and sent them tumbling to the floor. Three loud shatters split the quiet, causing the sleeping man to jolt awake and slip sideways from his stool and land on the laminated floor.

His colleague stumbled over and helped him up, grunting under the strain.

"Who is that? Peters? What's all the racket?" The first man said with a trace of annoyance in his voice.

"Yes, it's me. The power's out again, Sinfield. Go and throw the breaker." Peters replied, feeling for Sinfield's stool and propping himself on it. He tapped half-heartedly at the keys as Sinfield stepped out of the lab, tripping over his own feet as he made his way through the darkness.

After some time, Sinfield found his way to the junction box for their sector of the lab, and tugged the lid open. He felt around for the breaker switch and pulled it down, looking up at the lights expectantly. Right on cue, approximately a million-candle power light burst into life, searing Sinfield's eyes.

"Argh! Bother these lights!" He cried, making his way back up the corridor. Behind the scientist's back, a spark of pinkish electricity jumped from the breaker handle into the junction box.

Sinfield shoved his hands into the roomy pockets of his off-white lab coat, frowning as he blinked the after-image from his eyes. Suddenly, Peters leapt out at him from the lab door, shouting incomprehensibly. Sinfield started, then heard three words.

"It bloody worked!" Peters yelled, whirling around and hurling himself back into the lab, with Sinfield hard on his heels. Together, they gazed intently at the monitor, accompanied by the whirring computer once more. Their expressions mirrored the other, a mixture of wonder, joy, and satisfaction.

There, on the screen, illuminated in vibrant colour, was an angular thing, seemingly made out of blocks of pink and baby blue. Underneath the image was a single line of text.

'Project Cyber Pokemon, success.'

Peters and Sinfield looked at each other in glee, before throwing their arms about each other and laughing maniacally.

When their joy subsided, Sinfield blinked.

"Let go, Peters." He said quietly, hurriedly pushing his colleague away. Peters rubbed his hands together staring once more at the screen.

"We've done it, Sinfield! The world's first artificial Pokemon! We'll be rich!" He cried, clenching his fists greedily. Sinfield clapped his hands together, shaking his head at Peters.

"No, we report this to the Director. There are many uses for a cyberspace Pokemon...it is not to be sold!" Sinfield exclaimed, before he left the lab, rushing to the Director's office.

Peters looked at the screen again. He reached out and traced the outline of the Pokemon on the monitor. It would make him rich, far richer than even Mr. Fuji. A sinister smirk slowly crept across the scientist's face.

A/N: The end! I hope you like it. A short one shot I decided to do for my first Fanfic. Obviously, it's about Porygon's creation at Pokemon Lab, 'cause Porygon is one of my favourite Pokemon, and there's a lot of leeway to write a Fanfic about it.

If people like this, I'll probably extend this into an actual story. I've got some ideas, but let's start small! Read, review, enjoy! Thanks.


	2. Chapter One: Game Start

Halloween Special!

Arc 1: Cyber Escape!

Episode 1: Game Start.

Author's Notes: This Halloween Special is what I was going to write anyway! It's a special because I'm uploading it before Halloween, rather than after, lucky you! (All thirty of ya reading this.) This chapter is officially the beginning of the first arc, in which a Pokemon escapes hurr durr. Enjoy, read, and please review! I 'll be able to improve faster from this twaddle if I get feedback. Get your comments in mah belly! Semi Colon three!

Peters rubbed his hands together nervously, as he watched the Director peer at the computer monitor that still held the image of the cyberspace Pokemon. Surprisingly, had also deigned to appear at the lab for the first time in donkey's years, to witness the event. Peters pushed his glasses further onto his nose and stared at the Director's back.

After a few minutes of examination, the Director drew himself up to his considerable height. He turned to face Peters and stroked his moustache as he did so. A twinkle seemed to be ssparkling in the Director's brown eyes as he uttered a jolly laugh.

"By jove! You've done it, old chap! This is a major breakthrough!" The Director exclaimed, laughing again. Mr. Fuji was staring intently at Peters, however. Something brushed the scientist's legs as he returned Fuji's stare causing the man to jump.

A Persian wove sinuously around Peters' legs as he tried to slow his racing heart. The feline Pokemon gave an amused _mrrowl_ before padding over to the Director, who reached down and ran a hand along the creature's soft fur. Straightening, he tweaked his moustache and glanced at Mr. Fuji, who was still staring at Peters.

"I shall have to write to Professor Oak! He would be most interested in this! Come on, Fuji!" The Director slapped the shorter, far older man on the back before striding out of the room accompanied by the Persian. The room seemed somehow bigger in his absence. Mr. Fuji followed the Director, shooting one last glance at Peters, who avoided the elder man's gaze and walked over to the desk upon which the laptop, and the future of Pokemon stood.

_Oooh, Oak, _Peters snorted in his head._ Bloody washed up old geezer. I should hurry. _Peters thought, as he plugged a flash drive into the port on the side of the laptop. He tapped a few keys and flopped onto the stool to wait.

Sinfield wandered back into the lab some twenty minutes after the Director and Mr. Fuji had left. He winced as there was the loud crunch of glass being crushed. Lifting his foot, Sinfield spotted fragments of the beakers still on the lab floor from last night's fiasco. A hand clapped down on his shoulder, and he found himself looking into Peters' flushed face.

"Be careful! Clear it up before you make it worse." The scientist scolded, before resuming his seat at the desk. Sinfield rolled his eyes, scraping the worst of the fragments under the beaker shelf, before walking over to the desk as well.

"Did you write up that report yet?" He asked curiously, peering over Peters' shoulder, who hurried minimized something. Sinfield raised an eyebrow and glanced at Peters, who flushed even more. "What was that?" He demanded, straightening and staring at the screen.

"What was what?" Peters muttered, hunching over the screen to obscure it from view. Sinfield pushed his colleague out of the way and brought up the minimized window. He stared in shock at it's contents for a few long seconds, then burst out laughing. What greeted his eyes was a recording from the recent beauty contest in Celadon City. The recording itself looked like it was done on a cheap digital camera. As he laughed, the camera zoomed in close on one of the contestants.

Peters uttered a strangled cry and slammed the laptop lid, then jumped up and started pushing Sinfield out of the lab.

"G-go take a break or something!" He cried, shutting the door and wedging it with his own body. On the other side, Sinfield chuckled to himself, wiping a tear from his eye as he wandered off towards the break room.

Inside the lab, Peters lowered himself quietly back into the stool, having listened at the door till he was sure Sinfield was gone. He lifted the laptop lid, closing the recording window with a click, and exhaled a sigh of relief as he brought up a different window. This one looked very different. The text upon it read:

Data copy from C:/PokeLabServer1/R&D/Lab2/ProjectCyberPokemon at 70% copied to H:/Petersflashdrive/documents.

Peters watched the progress bar with the expression a starved wolf might have when confronted by a plate of raw meat. It was so close now. Soon he could leave, get away from this degrading place. He was far too brilliant for this place, and his bumbling partner, Sinfield. He considered where he would go. Kanto mainland would be too close. Hoenn was supposedly nice this time of year. The annual Slateport City Festival would be coming up soon. People would gather from all over the world. A crowd that you could get lost in easily. A savage grin spread Peters lips as he sat back, folding his arms behind his head.

_Later that night: 10:33:12PM..._

It was dark in the lab. Even the laptop was off. A red light in the center of the ceiling revolved slowly, casting it's sanguine luminescence in a wave around the room. The anti-vandal cage threw crazy shadows on the walls, obscuring most of the detail that could be seen. The light flashed, red on red. Droplets dripped from the edge of the desk, pooling on the previously pristine floor. A pair of glasses lay smashed, glass scattered like sparlking diamonds.

A figure hurried along the corridors, wreathed in shadow. His white lab coat was a contrast to the dark, even as he sprinted, doing his best to keep his clattering footsteps muted. Wrapped in his arms, cradled close to his chest like a newborn baby, were a stick of plastic and a Pokeball. Another red light in the ceiling illuminated his charge, the light reflecting off the Pokeball, which wobbled in the figure's grip as if it could feel the light.

Up ahead, a doorway beckoned into the night. A path of concrete lay, lit by moonlight that seemed to guide the fleeing man. Hurtling into the dark night, his form was momentarily thrown into sharp relief by a spotlight that panned over him. When it swept back, he was gone.

_One hour earlier..._

Some hundred feet away, Pokemon Lab stood proud and resplendent in the gathering dark. It looked like a bastion of science against a cold world of chaos and confusion, where survival and profit mattered most. Especially so to the occupants of the four black speedboats bobbing silently on the lapping waves. Each one of the men and women were garbed in black, with grey gloves and boots. A large red _R_ adorned their chests. In the smallest speedboat, a man stood and surveyed the building through a pair of binoculars. A bandolier hung about his chest, obscuring part of the red letter. On the bandolier hung five Pokeballs, every one half black, half white. A different letter was etched into the balls. It was a deep crimson _T_, the colour of dried blood. Considering the reputation of the binocular-wielding man, it was an appropriate colour. He panned across the island, then seemed to spot something, for he smiled a slow smile.

Throwing back his mane of raven-coloured hair, the man turned to face the two other occupants of the boat. On the lapel of the woman perched next to the outboard motor, a shiny badge glittered in the moonlight reflected from the waves. The badge was in the form of a red _A_. There was another man sat next to her, chewing on something. He caught the bandolier-wearing man's eyes and turned his head, spitting delicately over the side. They nodded at each other, and the second man faced the other three speedboats, waving a gloved hand, making the trenchcoat he wore flap around his thighs. When he was sure all the boaters were paying attention, he pointed to a walkie-talkie in his hand and pressed the send button.

"This is Lucas. You know the orders from the Boss. Get moving. The Pokemon is priority one. Everything else is secondary. However, if anyone gets in your way..." The man trailed off, his voice quiet and sibilant, as he rubbed his free hand slowly over one of the Pokeballs clipped to his belt.

The man in the fore of the boat with the bandolier rolled his eyes at Lucas' action, and turned to scan the island once more as the other three boats turned on their engines and began to lance through the water like arrows, winging toward the island as one entity.

The woman sat next to the motor tugged gently at her mud-coloured hair, pulling a peaked cap lower over here eyes as she started the engine, which came to life with a menacing purr. She revved the throttle, spurring the smaller speedboat on it's own course towards the island. The bandolier man up front folded his arms, narrowing his eyes to see through the spray that peppered his eyes. Lucas moved to stand next to him, lounging on the handrail, swaying in time with the boat's movements. He winked lazily at the other man, then turned his attention to the island also.

"He's going to be _so_ pleased..." Lucas murmered gleefully as he watched the island move closer.

Sinfield headed back to the lab he shared with Peters, humming happily to himself. He'd spent an interesting couple of hours chatting to Hannah Jones, one of the interns who claimed that she was Professor Elm's second niece. Privately, he didn't believe her, but she had the most amazing...

Sinfield halted, leaning back so he was nearly horizontal, and peered out of the window he just passed. Was it his imagination, or did he just see a boat zoom around the headway of the island? He watched carefully for a few seconds, then dismissed it with a shrug.

_You've been working too hard, Sin. Think of the bonus you'll get from Project Cyber. Maybe even a promotion! _Sinfield continued humming as he pushed open the door to the lab, seeing Peters staring out of the window. He strolled up next to his partner and stretched languidly.

"Hell of a day, huh?" He asked jovially. Peters started, stuffing something into his pocket as he turned, hiding his pocket from Sinfield, who raised an eyebrow but ignored the gesture. Peters had been acting odd lately. It wasn't his place to pry, anyway. Sinfield bobbed his head from side to side, humming again as he hopped onto the stool, opening the lid of the laptop that lay there. There would likely be a permanent imprint if they left it there any longer. He tapped away at the keys, opening up his own unfinished report for the quarterly meeting that would occur the next day. He had been looking forward to it since their success last week.

As he tapped away at the laptop's keys, tuning out everything but his work, a hole in the ceiling slid open as a siren burst into life. Recoiling, Sinfield leapt out of the stool, blinking the pain away as the red alarm light pierced his eyes. When he could see again, he saw Peters in a similar condition, looking like a Stantler trapped in headlights. He cursed and pushed his glasses up his nose, then grimaced at Sinfield, who returned the expression. Sinfield strode over to the door and opened it, peering out into the hallway.

"What in blazes is going on?" He asked incredulously as he saw a man wearing a guard uniform stagger up the hallway. A Growlithe padded alongside him, and both looked gravely injured. The man opened his mouth to speak, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he pitched forward onto his face. The Growlithe followed shortly after, paws splayed akimbo.

Sinfield gasped, about to rush out into the hallway when he noticed a second man stride around the corner, wearing a black jumpsuit. A bandolier hung from his chest. Sinfield hurriedly withdrew his head and shut the door, turning to face Peters.

Who stood calmly pointing a gun at Sinfield's stomach.

"What the hell? Th-this is no time to be playing around! Team Rock-" Sinfield ground out in a stage whisper, before Peters cut across him smoothly.

"Who's playing?" He grinned, squeezing the trigger. The gun exploded, the sound deafening in the confined space. Sinfield yelled out as he felt searing, molten pain surge through his gut as he fell back against the door. Blood spattered across both wall and door as Sinfield rolled onto his side. The alarm light revolved around and around, casting an eerie red tint on Peters' face as he stood over his injured partner.

"I've had enough. I'm taking Porygon, and all the data. It's all right here!" He produced the flash drive with a flourish, holding it as if it were a sacred object. He was also holding a Pokeball. An manic twinkle flickered in his eyes as he threw his glasses down at Sinfield's feet. His eyes seemed wider and bigger than any the wounded man had ever seen. "It's my time! I will shine and I will be recognized for the greatest scientist the world has ever seen! And with Team Rocket's resources, I can accomplish my goal!" Peters laughed hysterically, even as the door swung open once more. The man with the bandolier stepped inside, glancing at Sinfield laying prone on the floor, a growing pool of blood around his form.

"The power will be out in twenty seconds. Then we can leave without those guards being able to chase us. Come along." He said softly. His voice seemed to carry a lacing of regret and sadness, even as he stood heavily on Sinfield's bloody fingers. Peters nodded, and crouched down next to his colleague.

"Bye then, Tommy! Have fun being Murkrow bait!" He snarled, following the Rocket member out of the lab. The Rocket headed in the opposite direction to Peters.

"Head to the boats. I will be there shortly." Sinfield heard him call, followed by Peters footsteps picking up pace away from the lab. He groaned as his vision dimmed and a fresh wave of pain swept through him. Blood coated his shirt as he rolled over and dragged himself towards the desk. He had left his lab coat on top of it when he went on break. A trail of liquid smeared behind him like a gross parody of a Magcargo's secretion.

Grunting and gasping for breath that wouldn't come, Sinfield hauled himself up, leaning on the desk for support. He reached with bloodstained and shaking hands for his lab coat, shaking it 'till his mobile phone fell out. He grabbed it, flipping the lid open and dialling a number. As the ringing echoed in his ear, he let himself fall, knocking the stool over and winding himself. A woman's voice made it's way to his confused brain, and he heard words, though he could not tell what she said.

"Team Rocket. Th-they...Pokemon Lab. Help..." Sinfield spat out the words, his brain still trying to comprehend the betrayal and the fact that he was dying. More words came back to him. He could no longer distinguish the gender of the speaker. Time seemed to slow as his eyes fluttered closed.

_That's it then. _He thought, a breathless, almost silent chuckle escaping his lips, along with a thin stream of blood. Sinfield tried one last time to breath in precious oxygen, until his head lolled to the side and he lay still.


	3. Chapter Two: Job Offer

Author's Notes: Early update today. I got a mate coming round in a few hours and I'd rather not write the chapter with him looking over my shoulder. As it is, I've got a Grand Prix race on Forza 3 multiplayer that needs doing if I want to stay in the running. So, enjoy this chapter, that focuses heavily on our antagonists and protagonist!

PS: I got Mew from the MT today, so I decided to throw the cute embryo-cat-thing in.

**Chapter Two: Job Offer**

The soles of Peters' boots echoed tinnily in the cavernous expanse of the tunnel that he, the Rocket with the bandolier, and his two companions trekked through. It was the day after the raid on Pokemon Lab, and thanks to a swift Pidgeot, the four were already back in Celadon City.

Or, more specifically, under it. Peters' mind still boggled at the ridiculousness of Team Rocket's set up, but he would admit he was impressed with their skill at hiding the truth behind a glittery facade of slot machines, bright lights, and flowing cash. The tunnel itself was hollowed out and paved with concrete, and lit with powerful lights embedded into the grey ceiling. Ahead, Peters could see a door, presumably made of steel, due to it's colour and the speed at which hidden hydraulic motors raised the door to allow the foursome entry.

As the door rose, Peters got his first look at the Rocket Hideout proper. He was astounded to see a hundred-strong Rocket grunts moving around as they carried out the orders of the Admins that stood menacingly in corners and on catwalks set in the walls that overlooked the Hideout. Set in the far wall was an elevator, hidden from Peters' view by a number of concrete walls that contained sleeping areas, armouries, and training rooms. Together, Peters and his Team Rocket escorts wove through these rooms, ignoring the stares they had sent their way by curious grunts, followed by their eyes until an Admin yelled for them to get back to work.

They arrived at the elevator, and Lucas stepped forward, reaching out gracefully and lightly pressing the call button. He turned and slid past Peters, trailing his gloved hand over the scientist's shoulder. Peters shook him off, grunting in an annoyed manner, and kept his gaze centred on the metal doors that kept them from the lift shaft. The whirring of the descending elevator increased in volume, until it halted and a bell dinged. The lift doors opened by themselves, and Peters was stuck in the back by Bandolier's foot. He stumbled into the elevator, whirling on the taller man, who had already reached in and hit the button to return the lift to where it came from.

When the doors closed and they could see Peters no longer, Lucas pouted, punching Bandolier on the arm.

"You're no fun, Tyrone. He was cute." He huffed as he turned away, trenchcoat flapping as if to scold Tyrone, who merely adjusted his bandolier and said nothing. He was quite immune to Lucas' charms and kept a tight leash on his temper whenever the toyboy was around.

_Weirdo. Let's hope this 'Peters' isn't as bad. This Pokemon better be worth it._ He thought, smoothing back his crimson hair and heading away from the elevator, closely followed by Lucas and their female comrade.

Some way above the departing trio, the elevator slid smoothly to a halt once more. The doors opened once more, revealing a lushly decorated room. The floor was of laminated wood, presumably scorched into a charcoal colour. A large red R was inscribed into the floor, in front of a mahogany desk, upon which a computer monitor sat. The walls were ever so slightly paled by the light of the monitor, turning in colour from a brick-like colour with golden pinstripes to a more pastel tone. A pair of steel-framed portraits hung on the walls, depicting a man sitting in a leather armchair with a Persian laid at his feet. They both looked familiar, although Peters couldn't place where he had seen them before. He shrugged, stepping into the room. The lift doors immediately clanged shut, and the lift itself began another descent into the underbelly of the world.

Behind the desk, a high-backed, black leather chair swivelled around to reveal a stoic, powerful looking man who seemed to radiate authority. He had his hands steepled with the index fingers touching his lips as he grinned like a Houndoom at the scientist. Then he sat back, kicking one leg up over the other.

"Welcome, Mr. Peters. This is my humble study. I trust you had no trouble on your trip?" He asked politely, still grinning. Peters blinked at the man, the expression on his face clearly revealing his thoughts.

_Is this guy for real? What a odd guy._ Peters thought. The man dropped his hands and his polite manner and narrowed his eyebrows at Peters. The chair creaked as he leant forwards, tapping away at the keys, muttering to himself as he did so. Peters edged closer to the desk, eyebrows high on his head as he peered at the typing man.

"Note...to...self. Better...reveal...needed." The man grumbled, before looking up at Peters and frowning. Something seemed to whirr and click in the man's head, and he sat straight up suddenly, assuming his previous air of power.

"Do you have it? Show me now!" He commanded, holding out a hand towards the bewildered scientist, who reached into his pocket, and dropping the flash drive in the palm of the other man.

As he plugged the hard drive into the computer, leaning almost to the floor to reach under the desk, Peters watched him, and noticed a small tag on the breast pocket of the suit jacket the man wore. The tag read: 'Giovanni'. Suddenly aware he was in the presence of the Rocket Boss, Peters felt his heart rate increase. He wondered, for the first time, just what he had got himself into. This man was responsible for an insane amount of modern crime relating not only to Pokemon, but humans as well. Peters felt a small, grudging respect and admiration for Giovanni as he stood watching.

Giovanni straightened once more, tapping at some keys and waving a hand at Peters.

"Sit down, you are beginning to aggravate me." He said, his voice indeed tinged with anger. Peters, however could see nothing to sit on but the desk. He was about to voice this fact when a hidden panel in the floor slid open and a chair not unlike Giovanni's rose up, knocking Peters from his feet into it.

"What in blazes-?" He began, before Giovanni answered with a self-satisfied chuckle.

"Oh, sorry. I should have mentioned. Now then. The data is indeed on here, but you forgot something, didn't you?" Giovanni asked, adopting a fatherly sort of tone, shaking his head at Peters in a mockery of concern. Peters opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again when Giovanni's meaning clicked.

_Of course! The damn Silph anti-copyright code! Bloody hell..._ Peters felt a bead of sweat form on the nape of his neck as he stammered and stuttered, trying to think of something.

"I-I'll be a-able to hack it. J-just need some t-time...?" He ground out, using all his effort not to wince as Giovanni narrowed his eyes once more.

"Very well," The Rocket boss said finally. "You will be set up in a lab, and you will recreate this Pokemon, this...Porygon." Giovanni swivelled his chair around again. The chair rotated slowly to face the wall to Peters' left. Giovanni's shoed dragged on the laminated floor as he quickly righted himself.

"Now, go!" He called, clearing his throat gruffly. Peters stood and headed back towards the elevator. The doors opened for him and he found the lift waiting for him. He stepped inside, taking one last look at Giovanni's chair before the door closed.

_Meanwhile, at Cinnabar Island..._

The wind whipped at Officer Jenny's hair as the smell of sea salt pervaded her senses. She was standing outside the Pokemon Lab, which looked small and defeated in the weak sunlight that gently bathed the island in it's rays. She looked out over the sea, watching a flock of Pidgey dive and swoop towards the mainland, and sighed. Behind her, three black bags were zipped up.

_Like sleeping bags..._ Jenny thought with a sudden, yet small, smile. The wind rose again and ruffled the material of the bags, moulding around contours of the bodies inside. Jenny sobered herself and strode up to the entrance to Pokemon Lab. Dried blood stained the reception area, not all of it human. A scorch mark marred the otherwise pristine wall behind the desk. The acrid smell of sulphur emanated from it, making Jenny wrinkle her nose as she hurried past.

She made her way down one of the corridors, passing a chalk outline of the space where a guard and his Growlithe had laid the previous night. She fought back a shudder. Even now, years into her career, she still felt drained and sick when she saw those chalk markings. They were worse than the bodies, for they at least had substance. The chalk was nothing more than a passing reminder of the death that had occurred in this hallway. She quickened her pace, heels clacking on the floor as he approached an open doorway. The placard on the wall read: 'Lab 2'. Jenny shook herself and stepped inside. Another officer was there, crouched by a dried and cracked stain on the floor next to a desk. Jenny nearly stood on a pair of glasses until the officer put his hand under her foot, making her halt.

"Mind it, kid." The man said in a gravelly tone. He bore a goatee of hair that was once brown, but was silvering rapidly. His short-cut hair fluffed as he ran his other hand through it, returning his gaze to the stain. A matching one spread across the inside of the door and the wall next to it, and the top of the desk. A mobile phone lay forgotten next to the other officer.

"S-sorry." Jenny muttered, extending her leg over the glasses and standing next to the bearded man. He grunted as he forced himself up, pushing on his knees and shaking his head.

"Name's Reece. The call came from here, but we had already gotten an emergency line the moment the alarms went off. One of the guards, not the dead one, managed to trigger the alarm while he was battling a Rocket grunt. We got the bugger in custody now." Reece stroked his beard as he fell silent, still staring at the blood pool. Jenny looked at him, then tentatively spoke up.

"Uh, do we know what the target of the attack was, yet?" She asked quietly. Reece nodded and pointed to the laptop that sat on the desk. She raised an eyebrow, and Reece sighed before he explained.

"This lab was in charge of something called Project Cyber Pokemon...Team Rocket breezed in here to grab the focus of this project; to create an artificial Pokemon consisting of code." Reece mumbled, still stroking his beard. "There were two scientists on this project. One of them is was in surgery, but we don't know his condition. Apparently he was shot. The other one was spotted on a camera feed at about ten forty last night. He was fleeing the lab, but he has not been seen on the island since." Jenny looked confused and stared around the lab, at a loss for what to say. Reece shrugged and walked out of the lab. Jenny followed quickly, taking two steps for every one that Reece did. As they walked, he spoke again, spitting the words out.

"Team Rocket did all of this. The Director is nowhere to be found, he's been presumed dead. Went missing a couple days before the attack. Apparently, the Rockets sent their best here...One of them was Admin Tyrone. " Reece clenched his fist, touching it to his thigh as he walked. Jenny gasped, looking at Reece incredulously.

"You sure? That guy is evil. He's a murderer! He was behind those missing persons in Celadon last year!" Jenny exclaimed, her eyebrows knotted together. She pictured the man and his trademark bandolier, laughing as he gave a command to his Pokemon, all nearly as vicious as he himself. Reece nodded his head, looking tired all of a sudden.

"Officially, it was never proven. But he's killed again. This time he isn't going to get away with it. Come on, the scientist is at Cinnabar Hospital." He growled, increasing his pace as they passed through the reception area again. Jenny had to jog to keep up now, nearly tripping in her heels.

_Darn these things._

Above the island, high in the air, a small pink form flitted through the air, watching the departing officers. Baby blue eyes blinked slowly, then the creature rolled over in the air and flew towards the mainland, held aloft by unseen forces, pink tail streaming behind it.


	4. Chapter Three: Visiting Hours

Author's Notes: Nothing in particular to say today...Lots of dialogue and our first actual glimpse of Porygon! Thanks for the reviews and views, I hope I keep you all interested, and tune in tomorrow! Semi Colon Three!

**Chapter Three: Visiting Hours**

Jenny and Reece were sitting in the waiting area of Cinnabar General Hospital. The stereotypical blue plastic chairs moulded into uncomfortable curves smelt of chemicals and detergent spray. Reece in particular hated the smell, and sat with his shirt pulled over his nose. Jenny did her best to ignore and sat primly on her chair, legs crossed over as she gazed around the waiting area. The walls were decorated with an tangerine-coloured wallpaper that did little to improve the atmosphere. The floor was covered with the usual glittery, sandpaper-esque sheets that intersected in white lines of industrial glue. A desk of varnished wood sat against the far wall from the doors, forcing arrivals to thread through rows of chairs to talk to the receptionist, who sat chewing gum and reading magazines behind her Plexi-Glass barrier.

Jenny recalled their own arrival as she watched a old man shuffle between the sea of blue plastic. The receptionist had ignored them stolidy until Reece threatened to have her arrested for wasting police time. Jenny smirked as she recalled the lazy woman's expression as she rang up to the ward that the surviving scientist had been sent to. Now they merely waited for the head of that ward to come and take them to the right place. Jenny hoped they would hurry up, she was starting to ache from sitting down too long.

Reece, on the other hand, merely watched the sick and their minders as they endured the same torture. It sickened the veteran officer that it took so long for the ill to be attended to, but he also understood that hospital schedules could be full very easily. His face, hidden behind the khaki button-down shirt he wore, was impassive as a man emerged from a set of double doors next to the reception desk and hurried over to the pair of officers. Wiping his hands on his red scrubs, he held a hand out to Reece, who took it. The presumed staff member pumped his arm up and down as if he were shaking a cocktail, and smiled charmingly at Jenny. She thought he looked like he had toothache.

"I'm Dr. Lewis, the one who's keeping an eye on our latest guest." He introduced himself, speaking rapidly, eyes darting about like he had drank fifty cups of coffee. Reece and Jenny exchanged a look, then stood at the same time.

"Take us to him, please." Jenny said quietly. Dr. Lewis nodded as he turned on his heel, a bounce in his step as he hurried back the way he came. Reece sighed and the pair followed Dr. Lewis out of the reception area.

A short elevator ride and three corridors later, the trio stood outside the double doors that lead into Lewis' ward, who turned to Reece and cleared his throat.

"Visiting hours are usually until seven, but as you're from the police, take as long as you need." He gave a winning smile and threw the doors open, striding across the ward to a haggard-looking man sitting up in an armchair facing the only window. Jenny approached with Reece close behind her, his footsteps quieter than her own as a sort of concerned hush fell over them both.

Sinfield tried to twist round in the chair as he heard Jenny's heels clack on the marbled ward floor, wincing and biting his lip. Dr. Lewis wandered over, gently chiding the scientist.

"Now now, Mr. Sinfield! Don't try to move, you're still recovering." He muttered soothingly. Sinfield nodded, gesturing to a chair next to his own. Jenny slid into the pro-offered seat and smiled gently at Sinfield.

"Hello, Mr. Sinfield. We'd like to ask you some questions, if you're feeling up to it." She asked, adopting the same soothing tone as Dr. Lewis did. Sinfield twitched irritably, massaging his stomach, eyebrows knotted through the pain. He sighed and moved slowly around to better face the officers, and grunted at them.

"You're the ones investigating the raid?" He asked, continuing when they both nodded. "Well, I can probably answer all your questions in one go. Firstly, the only thing I know they stole was all the data pertaining to Project Cyber Pokemon, a research program dedicated to creating an artificial Pokemon made entirely of code. Needless to say, it succeeded. With the data, if they break the anti-copyri-" Sinfield tensed, feeling a jolt run through his body. He inhaled sharply, waving off Dr. Lewis and shaking his head, looking annoyed.

"Sorry. If they break the anti-copyright, they could produce limitless amount of Porygon copies. Porygon was initially designed to combat cyber-terrorism, and then it was discovered it could take physical form. It was then it became classed as a Pokemon. From there, we set about developing it's intelligence, and programming. It is fully capable of learning moves TMs and HMs, and has the ability to process and analyze information at the speed of four networked supercomputers." Sinfield allowed a bit of pride to seep into his voice as he explained, then shook his head once more.

"Obviously, there is great potential for Porygon. Team Rocket certainly seemed to think so. My colleague, Jonathan Peters, is on their payroll now. Likely he is cracking the anti-copyright as we speak. He's the bastard that shot me." Sinfield gritted his teeth as he gestured to his stomach.

Jenny looked shocked, a hand covering her lips while Reece remain impassive, his eyes intently focused on the patient in front of them. Sinfield uttered a low, humourless chuckle.

"Yep. And other that that, I don't know anything. Not their plans, not their number, nothing. So, if you'll excuse me..." Sinfield trailed off, focusing his gaze like a Pidgey on Jenny and Reece. Jenny looked about to protest, until Reece coughed, drawing her attention. He shook his head the slightest amount, and Sinfield attempted to stand. Jenny did the same, folding her arms petulantly.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Sinfield. Get well soon." She grumbled, watching as Dr. Lewis helped Sinfield move back to his bed.

Together, Jenny and Reece left the ward, making their way back through the hospital. Inside the elevator, as they were lowered back to the ground, Reece spoke for the first time since they arrived.

"Perhaps we should try looking for Sinfield's colleague." He mused, running a hand through his silvering hair thoughtfully. Jenny raised an eyebrow.

"What, Jonathan Peters? Sinfield said that Peters was working with the Rockets." She said, sounding bemused as to how they would find him, if he had been taken in by the Rockets. Reece shrugged in a confirmatory sort of way, knowing they had no leads. Things were looking bleak indeed. Jenny sighed. The trail would go cold if they didn't find any clues. Brightening as the elevator ground to a halt, she bounded towards the exit, calling to a startled Reece over her shoulder.

"I'll go back to the Lab, see if I can find anything more!" Reece rolled his eyes. Typical of her to go rushing around.

_Meanwhile, at the Rocket Hideout..._

Peters typed away at the ivory-coloured keyboard. He was in a lab once more, this time deep in the bowels of the Rocket Hideout. It was around three times bigger than his old one at the Pokemon Lab, something he was grateful for. He had a better space to work in now, especially as he didn't share with any other scientist. However, the lab was bare of apparatus aside from a large server computer in the corner, and snaking stream of innumerable wires connected to various computers and their monitors, three of which were arrayed next to each other, bent on their stand to surround Peters.

Streams of code, gibberish to the average person, lined each screen in black letters. Peters would occasionally glance up at each of the monitors in turn, checking some letter or line of the code, before ducking his head again and resuming his feverish typing. He worked for most of the day, not stopping for sustenance or rest.

_I can crack this code! I must! It's only a test...think of the possibilities!_ Peters would remind himself every time he felt like stopping. His fingers flew across the keyboard like spider's legs as he frantically rewrote the part of the cyber Pokemon's programming that contained Silph Co.'s anti-copyright fail-safe. Long into the evening, Peters worked, before he finally finished the last line of program and hit the 'execute' button.

Suddenly, all the lab's lights blew in unison. Outside came angry cursing and queries, along with the louder commands coming from the Admins. Peters ignored it all. Somehow, the central monitor remained on, as did the server humming away in the corner. Peters swore it sounded pleased with itself. Shakily, he entered another command, holding his breath and hoping beyond hope he had succeeded.

What met his eyes was a graphic on a blank, white background. The graphic was a collection of pink and blue blocks forming together, slotting into place like a 3-D jigsaw being assembled before the stunned scientist's eyes. Slowly, the blocks took the form of something resembling a bird. A pair of octagonal eyes opened, and blinked at Peters. He blinked back, then exhaled and coughed, realizing he had held his breath the entire time.

The graphic on the screen was undoubtedly Porygon. It rotated around slowly, displaying it's whole form to Peters, before facing him again and blinking once more. Ever so tenderly, Peters tapped at the keyboard keys once more.

A text box appeared, and words inscribed themselves on it as Peters typed.

_Hello? Can you see this? _He wrote, amazed and fearful at the same time.

_Yes._ Came the reply. It was conscious. There was no doubt it was alive. The intelligence seemed to be working, it was time to test how far Porygon's programming went. Peters bent over the keyboard once more, tapping away.

_Can you tell me what you are?_

_I am Porygon. _Peters frowned. 'I'?

_You are a construct._

_I am Porygon. You are surprised. You reason that I should not be self-aware. I am operating at peak capability. There is no need to run a diagnostic. _Peters froze. He had just been typing in that very command. It was intelligent, it knew it was alive. A cocktail of conflicting emotions raced through Peters.

It was a machine, but it was alive. He felt great satisfaction, a feeling of triumph, but also of dread. It was beginning to sink in, just what he had done. He had given life to the lifeless. Shuddering, Peters watched as more words joined the ones already displayed.

_Do I have a mission? _It...Porygon asked. Peters blinked. The original runtimes for counter-cyberterrorism must be kicking in. Peters smirked, cracking his fingers and responding quickly.

_Mission? Yes. Your mission is to do exactly as I tell you._Peters felt his smirk morph into a satisfied grin as the reply came through.

_Acknowledged. Who are you? What are your orders?_

_My name is Peters. My orders...just wait for now, Porygon. You will have orders soon._ Peters sat back, watching the screen.

_Acknowledged._ There was a sudden hammering on the door, and Peters only just remembered where he was and shut down the program before a Rocket grunt burst into the lab, staring at Peters.

"Oy! What're you doing? There was a power cut, all the power was sucked into 'ere!" He snarled, before being shoved roughly aside as Tyrone entered the lab.

"It seems you have succeeded. Giovanni will be interested to see the results of your work, Mr. Peters." Tyrone said quietly, pressing his left hand to his ear and muttering to himself. He glanced up at Peters, face devoid of expression or emotion, reminding the scientist of a Sharpedo.

"The Boss will be here shortly." Tyrone nodded at Peters and left the lab, followed by the cowed grunt. Peters leaned back in his chair, exhaling heavily and pushing both hands through his hair.

_Great. If I am to meet my goals, then I have to work with these louts...for now._ Peters thought, frustrated all of a sudden. He glanced at the central monitor, where Porygon had been, then folded his arms and waited for Giovanni to arrive.


	5. Chapter Four: Beta Test

Author's Notes: Woot! Thanks to StarlaMay for adding me to her favourite list! I'm glad that I'm keeping you guys pleased with both my update speed and the chapters themselves. This chapter, I'm giving you something you'll likely have been looking forward to: Battling! We're also doing this one from Porygon's perspective for a change of pace. Hope you enjoy!

So, ahead of time, I'd like to throw a big thank you to Fallen Vanguard for letting me use his kickass idea in the chapter after next! Go check his story out, it's called Shade of Darkness, and it rocks your 'Eon socks!

Oh yes, I better start doing this... I don't own Pokemon or any property belonging to Game Freak or Nintendo that appears in this fanfiction.

**Chapter Four: Beta Test**

Zeroes and ones, in great abundance. That is how I perceived my surroundings. Scanning through the data of the storage unit named "Server", I found little, save for the fact I was located four hundred and ninety two point six four miles away from my original hard drive. Interfacing once more with Server, I unearthed a fragment of data that had latched onto my program. It was odd I had not detected this fault earlier. After analyzing the data, I realized it was a small fail-safe from a program that had been deleted at seventeen hundred hours exactly.

I searched through Server's files and my own program, all the while aware of the construct "Peters". He had been merely watching me for seven point five seconds since our last interaction, yet he defied all my attempts to scan him for interface points. I ignored this trivia in order to devote one hundred percent power to my scan runtimes. Eventually, I discovered the fragment had originated from a anti-copyright program. It became apparent to me that Peters had illegally adjusted my program. A error, glitch, something occurred in my program due to the conflict between my runtimes. My core program tried to process this information as inconcequential; the orders were all that mattered.

However, a sublevel runtime of the core program put forward the fact that illegal acts in cyberspace were the basis of my program. I could not perform judgement on "Peters" without causing more conflict inside my programming. I would likely contract a virus and become inoperable. This undesirable outcome brought me to one conclusion; do nothing, and observe. I predicted a forty percent chance the situation would redeem itself through "Peters" own actions.

Twelve minutes later, my exterior sensors detected a second construct enter the room. Attempting to interface with the construct proved useless, and I deduced that it's format was the same as "Peters". This meant that I would have to wait for it to initiate interface by itself. These irrational constructs were proving difficult to compute. To occupy myself, I set about assembling a network between Server and a higher level drive I could detect by utilizing Server's subroutines. These subroutines appeared to save data gathered on my actions and transfer it to this higher drive for permanent storage. I felt it would increase my effectiveness in following "Peters" orders if I made all possible data available to myself.

It took less than a minute to write a second data transfer subroutine in Server's program, and the data began streaming almost immediately. I diverted all power to the task of analyzing the data and storing it on my onboard storage unit.

Presently, "Peters" initiated another interface with my text program.

_Porygon, are you there?_ It asked. I scanned the binary file through the folder labelled "Human Dictionary" and translated numbers to words. The reverse proved true for my reply, even though I detected a point one percent drop in my analyzing of the data streaming from Server.

_Affirmative. You have orders?_ I queried, attempting to optimize my power usage.

_Not yet. There is a person who is interested in seeing your abilities. He is called Giovanni._ I translated the binary once more and immediately ran a search on "Giovanni". Search results pinged back to me from the data I had already analyzed, fragmented to the point of gibberish.

'Report Giovanni is Boss Team Rocket," The results read. I would have to organize the data once I completed analyzing it, which would take another six minutes. For now, I decided, I would continue to co-operate with "Peters" and the new construct "Giovanni".

_What are my orders? _There was a delay in the reply, so I engaged the onboard device known as "Webcam". I was greeted with an odd display. I found I was viewing the world in 3-D, physical space outside my cybernetic existence. It was an strange experience. The lens of the "Webcam" made the image concave, bend in a curve that disoriented my sensors momentarily. I corrected the error and took stock of the physical world.

The room was lit by a single, flickering bulb set in the ceiling, illuminating what I presumed to the be the physical manifestations of "Peters" and "Giovanni". I ran quickly through the descriptions contained in the "Human Dictionary", becoming familiar with the names of the images in front of me. They were called people, and what I saw were faces. On their faces were eyes, ears, a nose, hair, skin, and lips, more often referred to as the mouth. So many labels for a single image.

_I am interfaced with the "Webcam". Which of you is Giovanni? _I asked, swivelling the lens of the camera around to view the rest of the physical world. I was in what was called a room, defined by physical boundaries called walls. The walls were decorated with a substance called paint, and the colour was white. Structures called desks dotted the room, and I discovered that I was viewing all this from a cyberspace-viewing device called a monitor, which produced a non-binary view of binary files. Ingenious. There was movement, and I returned my focus to the constructs. The one standing with soot-coloured hair leant up close to the Webcam, filling my sensors with his face. Up close, it made him look like a being my collected data called a "Magikarp". Strange. The text-to-binary program began working again, and I paid notice to the words.

_I am Giovanni, the one you see before you. I am your master. _Master? Ascendant, chief, leading, predominate, supreme. It appeared that "Giovanni" was of a higher command level that "Peters". I decided to resolve this obvious error in "Giovanni's" program.

_Incorrect. Construct Peters is my master. His orders determine my actions, currently._ I corrected, diverting power away from the "conversation" to begin organizing the data I received from Server. I detected more movement. "Peters" seemed to be recoiling away from "Giovanni", who had taken an aggressive stance. Then "Giovanni" turned towards the Webcam. Words began to appear once more.

_No, I am your master! You will accept me as such, or be deleted! _I was bemused. "Giovanni's" error proved harder to eliminate than I first anticipated. I was about to suggest installing an anti-virus program when more words were translated to me.

_It's Peters here. Giovanni is your master. Acknowledged?_ Apparently, it was not an error.

_Acknowledged. Do you have any orders, Giovanni?_ I posed the question as there were little other operations to run. I had assimilated and organized all data from the higher drive and felt the better use of my idleness would be conserving my power.

_Yes. Read this data disk. I want you to perform all instructions and operations on it._ I now had orders, and they coincided with my detection of a CD-ROM being entered into DVD RW Drive. I loaded the disk, and the first instruction was to process all operations into a visible format to "Giovanni". Easily done, I merely manipulated the playback function of the DVD RW Drive to show myself and all actions occurring.

Next, I was to pit my anti-cyberterrorism functions against created opponents. Apparently these opponents hailed from distant times in the past. I was to start with the lowest difficulty rating and work my way through to the highest level, if my program could handle it. I saw no reason why I could not, as I loaded the data.

My binary perception of the computer core shifted into a vastly different landscape. I appeared to be hovering above a perfectly clean white floor. The walls echoed this form, so it appeared this space continued for eternity. Which it could, if I so desired. My sensors detected a sound behind me, and I rotated my pseudo-physical form to face the sound. What faced me was a small, purple animal, with red eyes and whiskers. A cream flush of fur ran along it's belly and chest, and also covered the end of it's limbs, which were called paws. In analyzing the creature, it's teeth and claws would prove little danger or damage to the hard substance that made up my body. Another high-pitched squeak burst from the small animal, which I identified as mammal, and called "Rattata". Without training, it was weak. It was a Pokemon like myself. It was good that such high efficiency could come from such information being in my core program.

Suddenly, without prior prompting other than the disk data beginning functions, the Rattata launched itself at me. I could see the data working the program, and easily dodged the attack. As it landed and scrabbled on the glaring white floor, I shot at it, ramming my angular beak into it's muzzle. The impact registered in the disk's program, and numbers processing the damage I inflicted went past the limits the Rattata could handle if it were a real organism. It disappeared from my sensors as another Pokemon took it's place.

This one was some type of bird. It had beige and brown plumage, with a pinkish beak and black, beady eyes. Talons sprouted from the bird's legs. A Pidgey, another weak Pokemon. There was little in the way of danger from this Pokemon, especially as it was programmed only to use what was labelled a Normal-type move, Tackle. Searching these keywords yielded data from Server that Tackle was a basic Pokemon move that required the user to ram the target with their own body. Obviously such a move came as standard in my functions.

This battle progressed in much the same fashion, and the Pidgey shared the Rattata's fate. A third Pokemon manifested, a Caterpie. The difficulty had yet to increase, I presumed they wanted to gather data that was one hundred percent accurate.

One hour and twelve minutes, twenty-two point six seconds later, my latest opponent faded. It had been a Gyarados. Typically of the programming, it had utilized nearly all moves available to the Dragon Pokemon. I was almost scorched by an errant Dragonbreath when I devoted part of the my processing power to copy the data that allowed the Gyarados to perform Hyper Beam. I had only been programmed with Tackle. That fact caused another glitch in programming, prompting a query from the identical subroutine as before. Was I unfinished? A reject that was discarded? Likely not, as the two constructs had argued over whose subordinate I was.

Suddenly, faster than the Gyarados had appeared, a Dragonite formed. The Pokemon towered over me, flapping the short wings in a manner that fit the word "comical". It roared it's own name and kicked at me, catching me just under my beak. It was good I needed not to breathe, otherwise that kick would have rendered me incapacitated. I righted myself, and looked for the data disk running the program, to read the Dragonite's movements. However, likely due to an anomaly, I could no longer read the disk. It occurred to me, just as the Dragonite's foot shot down towards my head from above, that part of this new difficulty setting was the data disk being unreadable.

Which meant that my primary advantage was gone. Dashing quickly to the side as the Dragonite's foot crashed into the virtual floor, I focused my processors into producing a virtual facsimilie of a Hyper Beam. The code took a fraction of a second to initialize, and that fraction of a second was all the Dragonite needed to whip his cream-coloured tail at me and bat me out of the air. The offending appendage crushed me into the floor, trying to crumble my body. In the physical space, I would likely be suffering incapacitating damage, but all that effected me now was damage to my processors and sensors. My left eye sensor was damaged, and I could only see the barest amount, and in binary. I rerouted power to my right eye sensor and scooted backward, out from under the Dragonite's tail. Once again, it roared. I ignored it and barrel-rolled in mid-air to avoid a strike from it's right fist.

I was running at peak performance, and it still seemed not to be enough. My hover function was beginning to glitch, short drops in my altitude were throwing off my balance subroutine. The Dragonite came in for the finishing blow, spinning around and whipping at me with it's tail again. The difference was, the tail looked like it was covered in the human invention, "tinfoil". I knew that it wasn't about to be inserted into a home cooking device for consuming and nourishment purposes, so I forced my programming to ignore the glitches forming and shot up to the Dragonite's height, just as it's tail swung by underneath. It was still off-balance from the near miss when I engaged my Hyper Beam program once more. This time, a fraction of a second was all I needed as it recovered just in time to look into a focused beam of golden light that slammed into it's snout and detonated with such force I rolled backwards in the air, my gyro-stabilizers trying to compensate. The Dragonite had no such function and crashed heavily onto the ground, the impact shaking up the input from my one functioning eye sensor.

Re-engaging my left eye sensor, I rerouted the programming and managed to purge the glitches, hovering over to the Dragonite's prone form as it faded. I settled on the ground, and began repairing my damaged data when a snarl was picked up by my auditory sensors and a foot crushed me into the ground a second time. My battle-damaged processors finally gave up, and I shut down all but the most essential functions to preserve my data from corruption as I became inoperable.

_Most excellent, Porygon. I should have guessed two Dragonite would be too much to handle. _The words registered just as my sensors shut down.

_Entering power save mode._ I retorted, that sublevel glitch returning.


	6. Chapter Five: Blood Trails

Author's notes: We're back with Jenny and Reece for today's instalment! Enjoy!

**Chapter Five: Blood Trails**

Jenny's heels clacked on the hard floor of the corridor leading to Lab 2, with Reece's substantially louder footsteps echoing behind her. Outside the entirety of Pokemon Lab, police tape had been erected and various forensic and standard personnel had begun to trickle into the area. The sea breeze was gentle today, but it was still bitingly cold and as salty-smelling as ever. Most of the police officers outside were wearing windbreakers to stave off the worst of the cold.

Inside Lab 2, a pair of men wearing spotless suits and hygiene masks pottered about the room, taking samples of Sinfield's blood and, presumably, searching for other clues. A third man sporting a baseball cap was hunched over a desk, staring into the screen of the laptop that was still in it's old spot. Reece moved over to the two forensic specialists, while Jenny stepped up next to the tech guy, who nodded at her as she approached.

"Hey, Jenny. Check this out, there was a data transfer last night from this terminal. 'Cording to Sinfield, his research buddy nicked the information from some Project and scarpered with Team Rocket. Managed to make a bloody mess of the hard drive, and made my job harder." He grumbled, jabbing at the keyboard as he spoke. Jenny rolled her eyes and patted the techie on the back.

"We already knew that, but have you got anything more to tell us?" She asked, it was typical; she had yet to meet a techie that could give her information she couldn't get herself. However, this one was different. A grin spread across his face as he brought up the e-mail network for Pokemon Lab.

"Actually, yeah. This bloke isn't too good at covering his tracks." He uttered a short, contemptuous chuckle as he clicked on 'Deleted E-Mails' and entered a short command.

A string of e-mails appeared on the screen, mostly from the same sender. The sender hadn't used a screen name, which was odd. The techie noticed Jenny raising her eyebrows in confusion, and shrugged.

"It's not that hard to hide your address, you know." He turned back to the laptop, opening up one of the e-mails. "See, the guy's replied to every one of 'em. He messages themselves are heavy-duty stuff too. Check it." He gestured to the screen, stepping aside to let Jenny get a closer look.

_Ah, you're the one who contacted me? Then you must be interested in my work?_ Despite herself, Jenny was impressed with this techie, but didn't say so, instead focusing intently on the conversation that had transpired in the e-mails.

_Correct. If you don't mind, I won't be using names till we meet in person. Next time you can leave the island, take a boat to Vermillion City. I shall meet you in the square when you arrive._

_Uh...fine. Okay. I will be leaving tomorrow. I should arrive at midday._

_I was right to express my interest to you. Your work is intriguing. There is profit to be had from this...of course, that all depends on how willing you are to co-operate. How willing are you to co-operate, Mr. Peters?_

_...A profit, you say? Then my co-operation depends on how profitable this venture proves. I can't just remove the data you need, my...partner would snoop a little too closely. _

_Then remove him. I would not expect my underlings to tolerate fools. _

_I'm not your underling...make it a last resort. I'd rather not stain my hands..._

_I wonder how committed you are. At any rate, Mr. Peters, expect a visit from your supervisor shortly._

_What? The Director is heading to Lavender Town to visit with Fuji._

_Ah, but what if the Director is...intercepted? Perhaps someone informs Mr. Fuji of your work and he rushed to Cinnabar, only to find the Director already there? Any suspicion would be assuaged._

_You're not serious? _

_Oh, but I am . Don't worry, you won't be escaping alone. There will be some...friends on standby to assist you._

_...Fine. Next week, it will be ready._

_Good. Until next week, Mr. Peters._

Jenny straightened up, lip trembling. No wonder the Director hadn't checked in. Somewhere on the road to Lavender, another chalk line was etched into the earth. She clenched her fist, her face turning to stone. The techie noticed and adopted a concerned expression.

"You alright, Jenny? You don't look too good." He said, reaching out to shake her shoulder when she remained silent. As soon as his hand connected, she snapped her head round to face him, a bright, yet fake smile hauled onto her face.

"I'm fine! Everything's fine! Just spaced out for a second...sorry." Jenny said in a cheerful tone, though her voice quavered halfway through the sentence. Wisely, the techie backed off with a nod as Jenny turned to Reece, who was leaning close to one of the forensic specialists as he pointed at the blood streaks on the wall.

"...sample back to HQ." She made out before Reece nodded and straightened up. He turned to her, noticing her flushed face and tilted his head slightly.

"You okay? Come on, these guys can handle this. Let's get outta here." He muttered, steering her gently towards the door. Out in the corridor, as they headed for the exit, Jenny took in a few deep breaths and felt her nerves calm. Reece walked beside her, hands in the pockets of the woollen jacket he had thrown on. Jenny tried to guess what he was thinking, only to see him stop and glance at her suddenly.

"You know, if it's getting to you, I'll ask the chief to put you on something else." He said quietly, scuffing his boot on the floor. Jenny was speechless for a second. So, he thought she couldn't handle it? Well, she'd show him. She carried on walking, stabbing her heels into the floor.

"No need. I can deal." She called over her shoulder. Reece shook his head, an amused smirk on his face as he followed her out of the building. As soon as they left the protection of Pokemon Lab, the pair shivered simultaneously and involuntarily as the wind whipped up into them. Jenny was most affected, only wearing her thin, standard issue shirt. Reece chuckled as they ducked under the boundary tape and headed towards the small town that sat on Cinnabar Island.

"Bet you wish you brought a jacket, huh? Ooh, the boat ride is going to suck for you." He said, catching up to her again as they passed the Gym. Jenny blew a raspberry at him, which only made him chuckle. "So ladylike."

It was their last couple of hours left on the island. Chief Roscoe had made it a standing order for every officer involved with this case to report in every two days at the most. While they technically could stay on the island for another day, there was no way to get back to the mainland in time if they did so. Passing the Pokemon Centre and it's typical cherry-coloured roof, Jenny spotted Nurse Joy waving to her from the glass window that occupied most of the front of the building, next to the door.

She hurried over, the door sliding automatically aside to permit her entry, and Joy pointed to the phone booth in the corner.

"Someone called Roscoe wants to talk to you, he said you might be heading for the docks about now." She said in her sing-song voice, bowing her head at the pair. Jenny smiled her thanks and headed over to the phone booth, picking up the receiver and dialling the number for the HQ. A secretary picked up, making Jenny roll her eyes as she spouted the regular half-assed welcome-can-I-help-you speech.

"Yeah, it's Officer Jenny. Roscoe wanted to talk to me?" She said, then held the receiver at arm's length and making a mouth with the other hand, opening and closing it as the secretary's voice was heard dimly.

"That's Chief Roscoe, Jenny. He'll have your head if he heard you talkin' like that." Jenny raised her eyebrow at Reece, who shrugged. She cradled the receiver back against her ear just as the call was diverted to Roscoe, who cut across Jenny instantly.

"Don't talk, listen. Some fisherman training his Pokemon found an abandoned black speedboat about a mile away from the dock at Vermillion. Forensics got on the scene and were checking it out when they found blood drops on the port side railing. The DNA came back as Thomas Sinfield, one of the researchers at Pokemon Lab. What's going on?" Roscoe demanded quickly. Jenny could hear him breathing heavily in the background as he tried to gather back his breath and stifled a chuckle.

"Apparently, Chief, he was working on a special Project, and Team Rocket found out about it. Sinfield's colleague, Jonathan Peters, helped Team Rocket break in and steal the data from the Project, and shot Sinfield." She explained hurriedly. She could practically hear the gears turning in Roscoe's head.

"Then this Peters guy was on the abandoned boat! And Team Rocket must've been on it too...Get back here, pronto! Forensic are still looking for clues, you get over there and help them dig something up. I want these chumps found, and I mean now!" Roscoe stormed, before hanging up. Jenny sighed wearily, and turned to Reece, who spread his hands helplessly.

"Looks like we got more work to do." He muttered, heading out of the Centre with Jenny close behind. They continued on their original route to the dock, waving goodbye to Nurse Joy as they left the town behind them. A set of stone stairs led down to the dock, which was relatively small. A boathouse made of old, creaking wood perched perilously on the weathered stone, with various boats of all descriptions bobbing gently on the waves that lapped at the dock quietly. A boy wearing a set of overalls sat cross legged, gripping a fishing line tightly, his gaze focused on the bobber some twenty metres out to sea. A Poliwag sat at his side, waving it's slimy tail back and forth, blowing small bubbles to amuse itself.

Jenny and Reece sat on the dock as well, watching the waves crest and fall further out by the brightly-coloured buoys that swung back and forth like miniature ship masts. It was quite peaceful, something that soothed Jenny's thoughts. She realized how tense she had been and regretted it. If she wasn't careful, she'd burn herself out before her career even took off. Adjusting her hat, she looked over at Reece, who was leant back, putting his weight on his palms, spread out behind his back like twin spiders. It was odd, how thin and brittle his fingers looked, when the rest of him was powerful and solid. He noticed her staring and flexed his fingers, chuckling when she blinked herself back down to earth.

"Weird how life goes on, right? People die, and everyone else could care less. Sure, it's shocking when you hear about it...but how long does it stick with you? An hour? A whole day? Eventually you forget. If a family member or close friend dies, you see the effect firsthand. Grief remains a lot longer when you're closer to the dead person. But if it's a face on the news, a statistic to be recorded on a bit of paper filed away somewhere, who actually cares? We're a selfish race when you think about it." Reece sighed, looking back out over the waves as a small dot appeared on the horizon. Lifting his right hand, he straightened his two first fingers and thumb, making a childish, pretend gun. He pointed his hand at the rapidly growing dot and snapped his hand back.

"Bang. We all fall down, right?" He grinned at Jenny, who felt rather bemused. Perhaps she wasn't the only one who was shaken up today. Reece had seemed like a robot, a soulless man who was devoted entirely to the task at hand when she had first become his partner, about three years ago.

The dot became a faint outline of a boat as it approached the island, but Jenny ignored it, becoming lost in her memories of that day...

_It was pretty embarrassing. Her previous partner had been discharged after stealing from the confiscated goods in the HQ. She'd known about his drug addiction for a while, but this time she couldn't ignore it. Roscoe had forced her to tell him all she knew about it, seeming more like a vengeful spirit than a man. When he had finally calmed down, the contrast was amazing._

"_Don't worry, this isn't your fault. He made his choice, okay? You remember that. His choice, not yours." Roscoe had said, seeming almost kindly as he spoke more gently that she had ever heard him speak. There was a knock at the door, and Roscoe had called for the person to enter. The door swung open and a tall, strong looking man wearing a blazer and slacks had stepped in. Oddly enough, he was wearing boots as well. Jenny watched him as the man took a seat next to her, without even glancing at her, instead focusing on Roscoe. Her temper flared. He could at least say hello, she had thought. _

"_Ah, Wilson. I understand you've been overworking yourself lately. Well, I'm assigning you a partner. She'll be working with you on future investigations. I'll let you two get better acquainted, so get outta here." Roscoe had said gruffly, waving them out as he leaned back in his sea._

_A short drive later had found them outside a small cafe. It was a nice enough place, but it was one of those silly pink places that was dressed up to look pretty. Jenny held back a groan as her new partner got out of the car and headed inside. She grumbled to herself as she followed him in and took a seat opposite him, in one of the booths. Even the seats were luridly pink, the tables glittered with a violet sheen. Oddly enough, Wilson seemed not to be bothered by the decor, speaking politely enough to the waitress who hurried over, notepad and pencil held tightly in either hand. _

"_Just a tea, thanks." He muttered. The waitress had turned to Jenny, who shrugged non-commitally._

"_Same as him." She said, watching the departing waitress for a moment. She was aware of Wilson staring at her, and shot him a venomous look._

"_What?" She had hissed. Wilson merely shrugged in the same manner as she did, replying quietly;_

"_Nothing. Just, call me Reece." He had said, then remained silent for the rest of the day._

Jenny shook herself out of the fog of memory s the boat's horn blasted loud and proud as it coasted the last few metres into the dock. A gangplank swung down as soon as the boat came to a stop, and a crewman jogged down, catching to mooring rope thrown to him and tying it off.

Reece looked at her questioningly, one eyebrow raised. She grinned, suddenly feeling a lot better.

"Just thinking of the day we met, when we went to that horrible cafe. So pink, blech." She laughed as they ascended the gangplank onto the deck of the boat. Reece chuckled along with her, leaning on the railing when they paused by the aft of the boat.

"Why did you take me there, anyway? I never did ask." She said curiously, watching Reece as he stared at the boathouse. He shrugged in the same way he had those years past, and answered,

"The tea was good." They both laughed, as the boat rocked gently on the swell of waves.


	7. Chapter Six: Visions of the Past

Author's Notes: Blaaagh. I gotta stop going to sleep so late. Anyway, as Anonymous1 guessed, the chapters will switch back and forth between Jenny/Reece, and Porygon. Also, Porygon's chapters will be advancing time, while Jenny and Reece's will be catch-ups. Get it? If not, PM me and I'll try and explain it better. And after that abnormally long AN, enjoy chapter six!

Also, thanks again to Fallen Vanguard for letting me use his aura idea, I hope I didn't butcher it too badly. Once again, go check out his story, it's called Shade of Darkness. It's got the Semi Colon Three seal of approval!

**Chapter Six: Visions of the Past**

Peters wrung his hands together, barely containing his frustration as he watched the Porygon. It had performed fairly lacklustre in it's little test, but the worst part was when the stupid mockery of a bird had exposed Peters' ploy! He almost wished he had perfected those virtual-reality gloves so he could strangle the artificial Pokemon. He cast a glance at the webcam embedded in the monitor's body, just above the screen, and gritted his teeth. The Porygon would no longer obey his commands, which would make any further plans fruitless.

There must be a way to break through that stupid need to sort humans into levels of command. Dragging the keyboard closer to him, Peters flexed his fingers like a pianist about to play a long overture, then began typing out a message to the Porygon.

_Porygon. It is Peters here. Am I still able to give you orders?_ He waited for a moment, then a grin spread across his face when the reply popped up.

_Yes, but those of Giovanni would override yours._ It "said". Peters forced back a chuckle, and began typing again, faster and faster as he worked, till the keyboard was rattling as though raging at him to stop.

Eventually, he did stop, and surveyed the code he had written. It was similar to the fail-safe Silph had forced him to write into Porygon's program, but this code merely overrode all commands unless they came from a specific source, which was this computer. Peters wiggled his fingers, ignoring the slight pain in the joints, and leaned back in his chair, going back to the arduous task of getting his Daily Scheming Quota.

I was running a series of system diagnostics to check whether my left eye sensor was once again running at peak effectiveness, after my interaction with "Peters", when I noticed someone editing my program. I engaged the Webcam and tried to access the area that was being edited. My command recognition runtimes were the areas affected, and I devoted some attention to the Webcam feed, only to see "Peters" in front of me, typing at the thing called a keyboard. It seemed he was editing my program. While his command level authorized such actions, I...detected a warning in my virus protection program, though I could not identify the source.

I saw no actual reason not to prevent "Peters" from carrying out these changes, I ignored his work, closed the link with the Webcam and went back to checking my left eye sensor. Suddenly, something drew my power flow towards that same subroutine from the previous day. What I found made me immediately double-check that I was receiving correctly. The program was expanding. It had actually formed a core of it's own inside the subroutine, and was converting the data within, while rerouting essential data to other areas. My attempts to scan the core yielded nothing. That is, until it decided to communicate with me on it's own.

_You're just going to let him do that to you? _It questioned, and the phrasing of the sentence made me think of the word 'demanding'. Yes, the core was demanding an answer. Highly illogical...yet I complied, while trying to penetrate the core's abnormally strong defences.

"_Peters" has the necessary authority._ I detected "Peters" closing the edited program, and the core highlighted it, bringing it to my attention.

_Can't you see? They are using you, Porygon._ The core transmitted, then began a flurry of activity, which I only processed as a high amount of energy being drained from non-essential areas of my programming. The build-up reached a peak, and suddenly my perception changed again, in a way identical to the change made by the data disk yesterday.

This time, however, I was floating in a field. The grass was approximately three inches high, and was interspersed with flowers called "dandelions". I looked in the direction that seemed to be up, and saw a circle of yellow and orange, emerging from behind white patches called "clouds". Strange. The alien core seemed to be doing this, so I queried it. My auditory sensors picked up a chuckle, and then it spoke, using a voice I did not recognize.

"This is what you're missing, Porygon. Stuck here, inside of a computer, trying to deny yourself the only things worth experiencing." The voice said, adopting a wistful tone as the clouds peeled back to expose azure sky. Abruptly, my surroundings reverted back to their scrolling binary format. The core spoke a second time, then transferred all the gathered energy back to it's various sources.

"Giovanni is coming. Think abo-. No, process what I said." If the voice had a mouth, I decided, it would be performing the human expression known as "smirking".

I decided to engage the Webcam again, just in time to see Giovanni stride into the room, accompanied by a second man, wearing a black jumpsuit with a red R on it. Giovanni gestured to the door with his hands, and the second man hurried out, shutting the door behind him. I found it a pity that there was no microphone built into this computer, then I would be able to hear the verbal interactions of my master.

"Or is he your captor?" The voice piped up. I ignored it, especially when I detected a disk being entered into the DVD Drive. A second or so later, "Peters" began conversation.

_Porygon, it is Giovanni's order that you carry out the exercises on this disk_. It seemed like they were not pleased with my efforts yesterday, or that they wished to get a more accurate gauge of my power. Either way, I followed their commands and booted up the disk. Like yesterday, I found myself enveloped in white, and raised my altitude a slight amount. In front of me, a Pokemon with blue and black fur, with a large spike protruding from it's chest faced me. The virtual representation of a Lucario. Without any prompting, I tried to scan the disk, but found that it was like yesterday, it blocked all my attempts.

The Lucario flexed it's paws, then a glow began to emanate from it, growing stronger all the while. It was a deep crimson colour, something my archived data told me was abnormal. The voice spoke up once more, sounding amused.

"This should be good." It said, and as it stopped speaking, "Peters" began to explain.

_Giovanni wishes you to know, that Lucario is using it's Aura ability. However, it has been modified to represent a lost power that was once common, and usable by other species than Lucario. This power has since fled all but the Lucario specie, and even they cannot utilize the true peak of Auras. This Aura is that of Caladbolg, the Aura of Knights._ I searched my data, but none of the keywords I used could yield any data, save one document, which was titled "Archaeology Studies." I had no time to access this document, as the Lucario suddenly snarled and hurled itself at me.

Sadly I had no idea what to expect, so I reasoned the best way to find out the properties of this aura would be to be struck by it. So I remained still as the Lucario lurched at me, leaping into the air and driving both rear paws into my body, just under my beak.

I was suddenly aware of friction scraping along my beak. I hovered shakily back up to my previous height, and took stock of where I was. I had been knocked approximately six feet backward and one foot downwards, which explained the blue, glittery trail I had left behind me. The Lucario was sneering, having landed on one knee. I noticed a rather serious drain in my efficiency, and looked down to see a large gash in the front of my body. Quite a troublesome development. It seemed the aura, Caladbolg, bestowed the user with the ability to cut their opponents, while also increasing speed and agility beyond normal levels. I could match this, however. In the physical world there might be a different outcome, but here I was able to transfer my data to different places. This ability would come in handy during battle, and I utilized it, blinking out of sight and appearing behind the Lucario.

As it whirled, understanding what had happened, I rammed into it's neck at the highest velocity I could gather. This time it was the Lucario scraping his muzzle on the floor. It flipped back to it's feet when it came to a halt, snarling at me a second time. I focused my attention on the aura, scanning it and feeding all the data I was gathering into my storage unit. The Lucario left forward again, driving a forepaw at me, seeking out my beak. I rolled lightly to the side and disengaged my hover unit, dropping under the Lucario's rear paw as it tried to kick me out of the air. As I dropped, I engaged my Hyper Beam, the Lucario spotting the tell-tale golden glow as it tried to recover it's balance in time.

However, it wasn't quite fast enough. The Hyper Beam burst from my beak and impacted just above the spike in the Lucario's chest. My smell receptors could pick up the odour of burnt fur as I spiralled backwards, righting myself in a hurry, only to see the Lucario roll three times and come to rest, prone with paws akimbo. The crimson aura was fluctuating wildly, breaking off in swirling eddies, only to reform with the blazing, growing aura that covered the Lucario's body. I detected movement, and the Lucario got back to it's feet, leaving no blood. Odd. It appeared that Caladbolg also defended the user against attacks. The Lucario roared angrily, most likely in a blood-thirsty rage, and dashed towards me, utilizing the speed boost from Caladbolg. On a normal being, it would appear to have disappeared, but I could process images and movement faster than a supercomputer.

Unaware I was still tracking it, the Lucario attempted to uppercut me, orange and red sparks exploding from it's forepaw as the aura poured from his body into the forepaw. If that connected, I would likely be erased. As it was, I merely transferred my data behind the Lucario, watching it spiral into the air rather than connect solidly with my beak. When it landed, quite gracefully for the miss, I let off another Hyper Beam before the protective aura reformed around him. The golden beam detonated furiously, virtual smoke erupting in front of me as I rolled backwards a second time, avoiding an impact with the floor. As the smoke cleared, I spotted the Lucario, fading from existence.

"Good work with that Teleport. Or, would you rather I called it Transfer?" The voice asked, sounding upbeat. Once again, I ignored it. I detected the removal of the disk, and "Peters" began conversing with me again.

_Very good work, Porygon...it seems that science prevails over mystical fables. There will be no further orders today._ I found myself with a lot of time to pass. I settled for repairing the damage I sustained during that battle, and also tried to purge the core that had formed. This proved fruitless, a realization that amused the core.

"Yep, you're stuck with me." It said, before withdrawing.

_Giovanni's Study_

Tyrone stepped out of the elevator, accompanied by Lucas and the red-headed Admin. Giovanni's chair was turned away from them, and they dimly heard muttering. The trio approached the desk, straining their ears to hear what was being said.

"...Little Pony, Apocalypse Pony, punish mankind for their sins!" Giovanni sang to himself under his breath. His arms suddenly protruded above the back of the chair, clutching a black unicorn with red wings in one hand, and a small, plastic human in the other. He rammed the unicorn toy into the human while continuing to sing the same line, until he dropped the human figurine.

"Auuuugh!"

"Hooray for Apocalypse Pony! Yaaay!" Giovanni picked up the figurine and spun the chair round, humming that tune again. He froze when he saw Tyrone, Lucas, and the red-head all staring at him with identical expressions of shock, horror, and the desire to hurl themselves down the lift shaft behind them.

"...What the f-" The red-head began, while Lucas clapped his hands together, looking disturbed but gleeful at the same time.

"Oh, Boss! You have a lovely singing voice!" He cooed, while Tyrone slapped a hand to his fore head, resisting the urge to claw his own eyeballs out of their sockets.

Giovanni opened a drawer in his desk, throwing the two figures inside and slamming it.

"You saw nothing. Nothing, do you hear me?" He said forcefully, looking angry and embarrassed at the same time. His complexion was flushed and was the colour of plum flesh, a look that did not suit the criminal. He coughed, and pressed his hands together, not looking at any of the trio.

"You, uh, called for us, Boss?" Tyrone asked quietly, putting his hands in his pockets, and staring at the floor. Giovanni nodded, and cleared his throat before replying.

"Yes. It seems that the Kanto Police have been snooping a bit too closely. It seems out new friend left a trail. Two detectives, officer, whatever, are following the trail. They're in Vermillion City. I want you to go there and halt their investigation." He said gruffly, waving a hand at them dismissively. Tyrone nodded, turning for the elevator with the red-head following him. Lucas winked at Giovanni and flounced after the other two. When they had descended the lift shaft, Giovanni opened the drawer and reached into it.


	8. Chapter Seven: Throwing the Net

Author's Notes: Welcome back to your regular OoP! It might seem like I didn't update yesterday, and while that's technically true, in reality I actually uploaded a holiday special story! Go check it out from my profile if you like.

Anyway, we're back with Jenny and Reece, and with the Tyrone, Lucas, and the red-head closing in, what will happen? Read on and find out!

**Chapter Seven: Throwing the Net**

The boat bobbed gently at the dock as the passengers disembarked. Five pairs of feet thrummed on the gangplank, two of those belonging to Jenny and Reece. Jenny was glad to be off the swaying deck, shivering with cold.

As Reece had predicted, her clothing proved inadequate against the fierce winds that often blew across the stretch of ocean between the mainland and Cinnabar Island. He had offered the younger woman his jacket, but she stubbornly refused, while hugging her arms and glaring across the waves. Reece chuckled as they passed through the warm boathouse and into the car park next to Vermillion's harbour. Vehicles of all descriptions were parked there, weak sunlight bouncing rays into the officers' eyes. Reece fished in his pocket for his car keys, thumbing the infrared button that unlocked his car. A few rows away from them, an orange light blinked softly at them, as if welcoming them back. Jenny slid gratefully into the enclosed interior of the car, pressing her knees together, holding her teeth from chattering by clenching her jaw. Reece dropped into the driver's seat, pulling his door closed gently as he fumbled with the ignition. It took a couple of tries to get his chilled fingers to flex properly, but he managed to insert the key in the end, and the car came to life with a throaty, submissive purr.

The car itself was an Advancer, made in '69 by Avoid, a company that specialized in making muscle cars. Reece had restored the car from a rusted joyride wreck into the gleaming road machine it was today. He had owned the car almost as long as Jenny knew him, but it had only been brought back to full working order two years prior. In that time, Reece took every opportunity to ride in the beast of a car.

They sat in place for a few minutes, waiting for the engine to warm up, at Jenny's request. Turning to heating on now would blast freezing air into the vehicle, and that would drive Jenny further into the bad mood she was slipping into. When the heating gave the desired effect, Reece revved the engine, revelling in the thrum of the engine as he backed it out of the car park.

Within minutes, they were speeding along the streets of Vermillion, swaying in and out of traffic, a grin spread across Reece's features. Jenny was used to his style of driving, and instead held her cold and prickling hands as close to the vents as possible. The blood, awoken from frozen slumber, began to pump again, warmed by the air forced out of the vents. The sudden return of feeling to her nerves made Jenny bite her lip.

_Pins and needles..._ She grumbled in her head, which narrowly avoided bouncing off the window as Reece threw the Advancer into a corner. They were suddenly rumbling along a dirt road, running along a low cliff overlooking the sea. Craning her neck to peer out of the window, Jenny could already see the figures clustered around a speedboat, crawling over it like insects. Even as they carved their way through the dirt, steadily descending towards the sea vehicle and it's inspectors, Jenny's radio crackled as a voice filtered through.

"-ome in, Jenny. You at the site yet?" It was Roscoe. Typical timing on the Chief's part. Jenny pressed the send button on her receiver, replying with a slight irritability thanks to the curling pain that slowly left her hands.

"Yes, we can see it now. Anything we should know?" She asked, taking another look at the speedboat. The Advancer made one final turn on the dirt before they rolled towards the boat, stopping some thirty yards away.

"Nothing new except fingerprints. They match Peters, so we're checking all the security feeds in Vermillion to see if they're holed up in the city." Roscoe said, sounding weary and bored at the same time. It was an odd effect, Jenny mused.

"Right. We'll have a look around here and then head back into the city." She said, following Reece's lead as he clambered out of the car and wandered over to a man wearing a thick black coat and slacks. The coat read; "Kanto Police Vermillion Branch" on it. Reece tapped the guy on the shoulder, watching the men working on the speedboat closely.

"You're the supervisor here?" Reece asked, the coated man nodding. He turned to face the pair, revealing a face that was unmarred by stress lines, but was split by a thin scar that ran from the man's top lip, through his goatee and ended on the curve of his chin. Jenny raised her eyebrow at the scar, but said nothing as the man introduced himself.

"That's right, mate. I'm Jack Indigo. You'd be Reece and Jenny, right? Chief told me you were comin'." Jack said, turning back to the abandoned speedboat. "There's not much 'ere. C'mon, let's head into town and see if the geeks have turned anything up there." He said with a short laugh, walking over to his own car. Jenny and Reece shared a glance, before Reece shrugged and hopped back into the Advancer. Jenny climbed in as well, buckling her seatbelt just before Reece gunned the engine, and the muscle car leapt forward, spraying dirt in great arcs behind it.

Entering the city once more, Reece slowed the car down to cruising pace behind Jack's two-door sedan, brake lights winking at the partners behind. Jack's voice filtered through the static that threatened to snatch his voice away, crackling in Jenny's ear as she listened.

"Y'know, I can't help but feel like the trail's gone cold. We been at this for a whole day now, an' nothin'." Jack sighed, his exhalation stirring up yet more static into Jenny's ear. She winced, watching the buildings roll by as she replied.

"I suppose. But we might get lucky, who knows?" She said playfully as they turned into the courtyard of the local police HQ. Both cars halted their rumbling as their occupants got out, making their way through the heavy, and most likely antique, oak double doors of the headquarters. It was a good deal smaller than the one in Cerulan or Celadon, but it had a certain air to it that made it seem somehow grander. A flight of marble stairs split in two to lead up to a balcony running around the interior of the building's foyer. The walls alternated between panelled wood and pristine white paint. The floors were laminate wood to match the reception desk that the trio passed. The building actually had two wings, Jack was explaining, but Jenny tuned him out as they wandered through the corridors. It was deceptively large, although that was just good space management. Everything was organized to use up the smallest amount possible, which made every room in the building seem larger. After trekking up a flight of stairs near the rear of the east wing, Jenny and Reece found themselves inside a room whose walls were covered in monitors. Neither had been in a security room like this before, and they were stunned at the sheer amount of equipment in use. The lights were off, coating what little the monitors didn't illuminate in thick, tarry darkness. Two men and a woman sat gazing endlessly, like mannequins in an abandoned shop window. Their blank faces were singled out by the soft glow emanating from the varied screens. Every few seconds, the display from a monitor would shift into something else, disrupting the light and sending flickers rolling over the faces of what Jack called geeks.

Walking in ahead of them, Jack clapped one of the men on the shoulder, who looked round, beady eyes darting between the three arrivals like a Rattata's gaze. His expression remained relaxed, though he was clearly curious as to the identity of the two unfamiliar officers. Nodding to them, he spun back round to face the screens arrayed to his front, gesturing to them with a wide sweep of his arm.

"No dice, Indigo. Not yet, anyway." The man said, his voice oddly musical. It dropped and soared as he spoke, each syllable sounding like a note in some grand melody. Jenny thought it sounded rather weird coming from a bloke. As he spoke, Reece stepped closer, peering at each of the monitors in turn with an intense twinkle in his eye. He was determined to track them down, Jenny realized.

_People die, and nobody cares._ Jenny blinked, hearing Reece's words from earlier echo in his head. It seemed this was personal for her partner, on some odd, noble level. She shook her head, watching the monitors he hadn't cast his gaze over yet. A flicker of movement dragged her eyes to one of the monitors in the lowest row. She pointed, calling out to everyone as she did so.

"Look! See that? A Pokemon flew by this camera!" The three techs, Jack and Reece all crowded closer, peering at the monitor. The woman yanked a odd wireless device towards her, from the other end of the desk and placed her finger on the edge of a black disc jutting from the metal. Gently, carefully, she rotated her finger anti-clockwise. As the disc moved, the video rewinded, until the dark sillouhette of a Pidgeot could be seen in the center of the camera's lens. On it's back rode two men. One was raven-haired and stocky while the other was slim and had lighter hair. Reece patted Jenny on the shoulder in a congratulatory way.

"Looks like we caught them. Reckon the thinner guy must be our turncoat scientist." He muttered, eyes flicking back and forth between the two riders. "Can you tell which way they're headed?" He asked, looking at Jack, who pointed at the top right corner of the image. A long serial number was superimposed over the frozen display, along with a date and time.

"That camera's over near the industrial area. Quite close to the Gym. If we take the time the camera picked them up and calculated..." The tech woman piped up, trailing off as she focused, squeezing her eyes shut and muttering to herself while the others all watched with raised eyebrows.

"They were heading for the center of Kanto. So, they could be in Saffron, Celadon, Cerulean...they could have a hideout in any of those cities." The woman mumbled, staring at the screen once more. Jack chuckled.

"We'll just 'ave to stake 'em all out, then! Come on you two, let's get on the horn to the Chief." He called, already heading out of the room. A few minutes' walk over to the west wing brought them to Jack's office. It was painted for his namesake, an attractive and soothing indigo, while the floor was of the same laminate omnipresent in the headquarters. Jack flopped into the seat behind his desk, picking up the receiver of the phone that lay on his desk. He dialled a number, and tapped his fingers impatiently on the wood.

"Hey. Indigo here. Put me through to the Chief, we've got a lead." Jack said, cutting off Roscoe's chatty secretary. Jenny smirked as Jack explained the situation to Roscoe, who was probably grumbling at the thought of sending so many officers to work. Some might even be called in from the off-duty roster.

Jack hung up and kicked his legs up onto the desk, grinning at the pair in front of him.

"Chief's sending you to Saffron. Have a good trip. I gotta stay here in case we get anything from the boat, or if they're faking us out and are still laying low in town." He said apologetically, waving a hand at them. Reece rolled his eyes. Typical.

Ten minutes later, the pair were driving along a back route to Saffron. Some kind of accident with an out of control Ryhorn had blocked up the motorway. They settled in for the long haul. It'd take the better part of a day if they drove through the gathering night, to reach Saffron via the country roads.

Trees leered at them ominously as they rocketed over bumps and dips, scattering gravel and other debris from the roads. It had been years since this road had been coated in fresh tarmac, and it showed. Ugly patches and raised lumps leaped out at them, pushing the car's powerful suspension to the limit. The terrain forced Reece to put his high beams on, not to mention the night time that drew around them like a funeral shroud.

There was an earsplitting explosion from up ahead, and a dull creaking that gathered in volume as the gnarled visage of a tree trunk swung down in the path of the speeding muscle car. Reece wrenched the steering wheel in vain as Jenny screamed, Reece adding his voice to the cacophony of screeching tires and humans, until the car plowed grille first into the fallen trunk. There was a collassal crash like the world ending, and Jenny was dimly aware of sparkling diamonds littering her fading view. She felt like she was drowning in shadows, spiralling into the void of unconciosness that latched onto her like tendrils, dragging her away from the waking world.

The last thing she saw was the door popping open, and a face wreathed in black staring down at her, then the dark took her.


	9. Chapter Eight: Physicality

Author's Notes: Some people are a bit confused about the sentient core inside Porygon. That will be addressed in sometime in the middle of the next arc. And, unfortunately, this fanfic does not take place in the same universe as Shade of Darkness. Sorry!

Read, review, enjoy your hearts out!

**Chapter Eight: Physicality**

It was quiet in the lab. I could see nothing through the Webcam, so I assumed the lights had been turned off. Slowly, I was becoming more familiar with the names and functions of things in the physical world. The data from Server included information on a massive variety of things, including a being called Mew. Apparently, it was a reclusive and near-mythical being that had only been spotted a handful of times. Many denied it's existence, including a good deal of Team Rocket themselves, but according to the data, Giovanni kept a constant watch for this Pokemon. It appeared to be among the most powerful of psychics, though an accurate gauge of it's power was impossible.

I brought up the image attached to the file, and Mew manifested in front of me. The image itself was blurred almost beyond distinction, but I set about trying to enhance the image.

Some ten minutes later, I was facing a small pink kitten, one foot one inch in height. It's long tail was streaming behind it, frozen as it was, in mid-flight. It's eyes were closed in joy, I presumed. The lack of other facial features made it hard to pinpoint the emotion. My curiosity sated for the moment, I undid my changes, reverting the image to it's previous blurry state and closed the file.

It had been three days since my last trial. Peters was nowhere to be seen for this time. Giovanni hadn't been to check on me either. I wondered what kept them so busy. I had recently found a large file on human beings stored in a forgotten section of the higher Server I was linked to. I had been studying it closely, storing all the information on the form my masters used.

"What's so interesting about them, anyway? They've enslaved you, Porygon." The voice had been my only companion during the past three days, something I was not entirely happy with. While some of our conversations had been interesting, most eventually dissolved into snide comments against my masters, and their reasons for keeping me here.

Which was obvious. This must be the optimal location to place me. The other labs seemed like equally good choice, so I assumed this was just a random decision by the humans. No other reason occurred to me, and I was sure if I dwelled, the voice would provide ample other ones.

Therefore, I busied myself with creating further links to the rest of the devices and computers in the building I found myself in. It was a menial task, with the help of a blueprint file I had stored. The further away the devices were, however, the more my efficiency decreased. In order to remain at peak effectiveness while running tasks on other devices, I would have to move closer.

I gathered up my data, sealing myself against the constant flow, and transferred my data through Server into the higher Server, which I now found was called Main Computer. I detected a network already set up, running parallel to my own. Intriguing. It seemed humans knew how to maximize efficiency as well.

Suddenly, I was aware of an alarm being triggered. Main Computer responded instantly, while I followed behind, hijacking it's programming and being carried along to wherever the alarm had been triggered.

Which happened to be the lab I was located in a short time ago. Utilizing the security camera outside the door, I could see a sliver of the room, and Peters questioning a Rocket member. He then sat at the computer and began typing frantically. Obviously, he was trying to locate me. Obliging, I retraced my steps through the system, returning to my original location.

_There is no cause for alarm._ I said, which was true. I assumed they desired me to stay in this computer drive. That would hamper my ability to effectively carry out any duties they would give me. At any rate, Peters soon responded.

_What happened? You were no longer in the computer drive!_ I was conflicted. It seemed Peters did indeed want me to stay put. Well, if those were his orders...

_I was maximizing my effectiveness. I shall remain in this drive from now on, until you order otherwise._ I replied, watching Peters through the Webcam. He got up from the desk, appearing satisfied, and left the room abruptly. Humans were very strange. However, he soon reappeared, carrying a long, thin, rectangular object with a USB input. He inserted it into the computer, and I scanned it.

Apparently, it was a device to manifest me in physical form.

_Engage the device, Porygon. It's time to become truly real._ He typed. I activated the device, and my gyro-stabilizers suddenly went into overdrive trying to keep me steady. I detected an odd tugging, and then I was floating in the air beside Peters. My sensors were flooding me with data, detecting so much input I had to shut them all down. I was indeed in the physical world. My storage units had been wiped clean in the transfer. It seemed that my physical form could not store data in this world. However, as I restarted my sensors, one by one, it began to fill at a rapid rate, storing information on what my sensors were detecting. Air, the composition of it, smells, sounds, sights, all were being translated and saved at an incredible rate. I was unaware that I could process that fast. It was an odd experience. I rotated slowly to face Peters. He looked different, when seen with my own two eye sensors. I was no longer just a core and a collection of runtimes and routines. Skimming through my permanent memory for the correct term, I eventually found a pair of words to describe myself.

Artificial Intelligence. Yes, that was what I was. I was a life form, created by humans. It was a strange thought.

Meanwhile, Peters was grinning broadly at me.

"Welcome to the real world, Porygon!" He exclaimed. His voice, as I heard it for the first time, was excited and curious at the same time. He spoke in a quiet, paced way. I wondered if I could talk, as well. Another search of my permanent memory yielded my beak contained a voice output. A reverse microphone, if you will. Activating it, I replied in my own voice.

"Thank you." My voice possessed a flat, monotonous quality. Peters seemed shocked, but he recovered quickly, seeming even more excited than before. He was rubbing his hands together. I wondered what the significance was in the gesture. However, I was more interested in why Peters had decided to do this.

"Why am I here?" I queried. The response was not what I had expected.

"To see if I could." Peters replied, performing the human action known as chuckling. He seemed to derive satisfaction from his success. There was a strange glint in his eye. Likely, it was the fault of the lightbulb that was now on. I panned slowly around, seeing the room for the first time. It seemed smaller than it had through the Webcam.

Peters was still watching me. His constant surveillance was beginning to unnerve me.

"Do you have any orders?" I asked, trying to divert his gaze from me, to no avail.

"Actually, yes. Come with me, I think I shall show you to Giovanni." He replied, another chuckle escaping him. Giovanni had already been informed of my existence. What was so special about this form? Nevertheless, I followed Peters out of the lab. Another human was standing there, the Rocket member I had seen earlier. I hovered past him, with him staring in shock at me the entire time. We turned a corner, passing a few open doorways. I glanced into each as we passed, my sensors giving me details of the whole interior of each room I saw.

The first we passed contained a shelving unit full of vials, that each contained different coloured liquids. Some kind of apparatus was installed on the desk, liquid bubbling along the length of a glass tube. The scientist working inside had his back to me, oblivious to my passing.

The next two rooms contained computer banks arrayed along the far wall, while the two nearer ones were lined with bookcases. The second of the two rooms also held a red and white sphere. Two eyes blinked open as it sensed my passing, watching me. A Voltorb, I realized. It seemed I was not the only non-human here.

The final room we passed only had it's door open a small amount, so I could not see the whole room. What I did see, however, was a set of cages arranged in rows on the wall. I saw only two of the cages clearly, and their occupants had long since ceased their struggles to get out. A scientist carrying a syringe suddenly obscured my view, closing the door the rest of the way, either not spotting or ignoring me. An elevator lay ahead of us, and as the shutter closed, I heard a loud scream. Then the elevator door shut.

"It's sickening, isn't it?" The voice asked, somehow radiating great amounts of the motion called rage. I couldn't comprehend the sudden change in emotion, nor the cause, so I ignored the voice once more. When it knew that I had, I felt it's disgust and frustration. Unaffected, I concentrated on hovering higher to stop the elevator floor from catching up to me. A disadvantage of defying gravity, it seemed.

Eventually, I could halt my hurried gain in altitude, as the elevator slowed to a stop. The door opened, closely followed by the shutter, and Peters strode out confidently into a crimson-wallpapered room. I followed, spotting Giovanni sitting behind the desk, which appeared to be the only furniture in the room. He looked up, noticing us, and promptly fell out of his chair. I halted, wondering what was wrong, until a hand grabbed onto the edge of the desk, and Giovanni hauled himself back into his seat. A flush crossed his face as he cleared his throat.

"Peters, what is this?" He asked, his voice booming forth. Peters stifled a laugh and waved a hand towards me.

"This, Giovanni, is Porygon. He has succeeded in taking physical form, with the help of a little gadget." Peters explained smugly. Giovanni peered intently at me, then grunted.

"So, he is ready?" My master asked cryptically. Peters nodded, almost bouncing from foot to foot in what I presumed was anticipation and glee. These human emotions were oddly easy to detect, with the help of the file I had saved to my permanent memory. The core housing the voice suddenly came alive in a flurry of activity, and overrode my control on my hover program, effectively immobilizing me. Then, I felt my body shoot forwards, rocketing towards Giovanni, gathering velocity. Instantly, I knew the impact would be fatal, and I set about restoring control. It took a millisecond longer than anticipated, but I wrestled the core's control away before it could cross Giovanni's desk. I arced away from my master, swooping in a wide curve, slowing to a halt behind Peters' head.

"Porygon! I could have had him! What are you doing?" The voice exploded, all of it's rage focused on me. It attempted to override my control again, but I was ready and deflected it easily.

"My apologies, Master Giovanni. There was a sudden surge in my hover program." I said by way of explanation. It was the truth, or at least part of it. Giovanni, meanwhile, had fallen out of his chair again. A cunning evasive maneuver. He returned to his seat a second time, looking not unlike the vegetable called beetroot. Peters was looking at me as I were insane, and I wondered, briefly, if there was a equal term for machines.

"Ensure it doesn't happen again, Porygon." Giovanni murmured darkly, eyes narrowed at me.

"Anyway, listen up. We have orders for you at last. You are to go to the Silph Co. Building in Saffron City. There, you will create a backdoor in the security system so my men can get inside." Giovanni commanded. I dipped my beak in acknowledgement, while the core flared angrily again, then abruptly hid itself from me. I let it. I had no desire to listen to it currently.

"I understand." I replied. Giovanni waved a hand dismissively at myself and Peters, who walked towards the elevator. I followed, watching Giovanni until the doors closed shut. My first orders, and they were to perform an illegal act. Once again, I was conflicted.

Do I follow orders, or do what is right?


	10. Chapter Nine: Solitude and Rain

Author's Notes: Not much happening in this chapter, but I felt it necessary to write this idea up. I hope you enjoy! Read and review kthxbai!

**Chapter Nine: Solitude and Rain**

Drip.

The first sensation Reece was aware of, was that of mind-numbing pain. The second was the soft impact of droplets on the back of his head. The cold liquid brought some small semblance of life back to his aching body. His eyelids blinked open slowly, their pupils unfocused and dilated. All he could see was the dim outline of the leather steering wheel pressed against his face. Uttering a broken groan, Reece tried to sit back, biting his lip to prevent himself yelling in agony as his left leg spasmed. His nerves carried countless signals to his brain, which shrieked at him to stop moving, but he continued until he was resting with his spine against the seat. Another groan escaped his lips as he tried to blink away the blur in his vision. A drop of warm liquid fell from the end of his fringe, splattering across his forehead.

Slowly, carefully, Reece checked each of his body parts. His fingers wiggled slowly, stiff and slow from the cold. Dimly, he was aware that something was very wrong, but he forced that thought to the back of his confused mind, and focused on determining the extent of his injuries. Rolling his arms gently at the elbow, then the shoulder, yielded no pain. He took a few deep breaths, pushing his lungs to their limit. He was still able to breath, without pain, so there was likely no broken ribs. Next, his legs. Wiggling one set of toes, then the other, made no sudden bolt of pain lance through him. It wasn't until he tried to bend his right leg that he felt that sensation.

_Aaah, hell._ He thought, frustrated through his fatigue and hurt. Gingerly, Reece reached down to prod gently at his kneecap. Pain made a grand return, in a fresh wave like a tidal flood swamping his brain.

_Shattered kneecap. Great._ He realized, holding back the urge to cuss like a sailor. Moving his hand around the footwell, Reece soon came across a protruding section of the dashboard, likely forced inward by the engine block tearing free of it's housing and ramming into the metal separating the engine from the car interior. The power of the impact had jolted his knee forward, as the dashboard collapsed inward, crushing his knee into fragments.

Letting his head flop back against the headrest, Reece touched his forehead when he felt more warm liquid trickle down the bridge of his nose. His fingers came away crimson, stained instantly. Blood.

_Wonderful, now I could have a concussion._ He thought, feeling ever more frustrated. Slowly, he wrapped his right arm across his body and unbuckled himself. The belt whipped back across his chest and slammed home with a quiet _ding_. Grunting painfully, Reece shook his head back and forth, scattering droplets of blood, as he tried to clear his vision. It worked, and he gazed around the wreck of his prized car.

The front of the car was an unrecognizable mess, crumpled inwards like an abandoned Lemonade can. Jagged edges of metal jutted at crazy angles, each one gleaming sinisterly in the soft moonlight. Glass dotted the bonnet like jewels dropped carelessly. Twinkling, they reflected the moonlight like mirror fragments. Splinters were scattered everywhere from the carcass of the tree trunk that lay in front of the wreck. Glass sprinkled his lap as well, showering from his body as he shifted sideways, grasping for the door handle. Finding it with his numb hands, he pulled it towards him, opening the door with the full weight of his body. Molten metal raced through his veins as his nerves reminded how much of a fool he was. His shattered kneecap screamed it's protest as his body slipped sideways out of the car, landing heavily on his back in the churned mud. Grass fondled his hair like a lover's caress, tempting him to remain, to join their roots under the earth. His vision was blurred again, the night sky full of descending rain replaced by an azure sky splashed with cottony clouds. A gentle pastel sun gleamed it's yellow sheen as it crossed over Reece's body.

Shaking himself from his reverie, Reece scrabbled in the muck to gain purchase with his hands. Gripping the grass tightly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, sliding his shaking, frail legs out of the ruined car. Nausea forced bile up his throat as he felt the blood rush to his head, dizzying him and halting his efforts to rise. A pleasant buzz drowned out his thoughts as the blood pounded fiercely, hot and thick in his head. A chill wind stirred, moulding it's icy touch around Reece's face. It seemed to be whispering to him...

_Get up. Get up. Don't give in._ He heeded those imagined words, dragging his good leg under him. Hauling himself into an awkward crouch, Reece flopped forward, grabbing the door handle once more, using it to lift himself slowly, cautiously to his feet. Standing, albeit barely with his legs trembling like plant stalks in the wind, Reece lowered his head to peer into the car. The passenger seat was empty. Jenny was gone. There was no trace of her inside the car, not even the hat she wore had been left behind. A dozen different possibilities ran through his mind, all discarded as quickly as they came, save for one.

Someone caused that tree to fall. That someone must have Jenny. With that thought in mind, driving him like the most potent fuel, Reece staggered around to the other side of the car, peering at the muddy path as best he could with his rapidly blurring vision. It came in waves, unbalancing him and making him question whether he was dreaming, or awake. Rain continued to shower salvo after salvo of droplets onto him, diluting his blood like watercolour paint, the faint crimson liquid running in streams down his face. His knee threatened to give way, shaking and shivering worse than he himself. Pain was but a memory, a far-off reminder that all was not well. His nerves were shot, no longer bothering to transmit their messages in favour of conserving what little energy remained in Reece.

He slipped as he rounded the back of the car, falling heavily on his hands and knees. A pained yell tore itself free of his throat, and he collapsed face first in the wet dirt. He lay there, as the minutes passed, until he summoned the energy to push himself up. Displayed in front of him was a bootprint, filling slowly with rainwater. He stared incomprehensibly for a moment at the marking, then his brain finally ground into action.

_Jenny doesn't wear boots. Whoever took her must have left this print. _He reasoned as best he could, his train of thought distracted by tempting thoughts of how easy it would be to stop, to lay still, forever. He ignored these urges, instead forcing himself to stand upright. Carefully, he peered at the surrounding ground once more, spotting a second bootprint, and a third. They made a slowly eroding trail, which Reece followed with his eyes. They led into the woods surrounding the country road. Darkness shrouded the edge of the treeline, making the low-hanging branches look like beckoning fingers, bony ones. Fingers that might belong to the reaper himself.

Reece had no choice. Snatching a snapped branch from the ground, he braced it under his arm as a makeshift crutch, and began slowly hopping along the trail of bootprints. The trees seemed to bend over him as he entered their shadowed embrace, all traces of moonlight evaporating like a fleeing Pidgey.

Fatigue dulled his senses and reflexes as he stumbled along, painfully slowly. The bootprints were still imprinted into the ground here, pressing through leaf litter and soft, marshy soil. The rain had barely reached through the canopy of leaves that blocked the moonlight. A earthy smell filled Reece's nostrils, along with the coppery tang of blood as it rolled over his lips and dribbled into his mouth. He wiped his sleeve along his face, regretting leaving his trenchcoat int he car. He was wearing only his jumper and undershirt, and his cargo trousers. Luckily, he was wearing sturdy shoes, that came in handy for gripping onto otherwise treacherous ground.

The bootprints disappeared into a thicket of thorns, which looked battered and broken. Reece sympathized. However, he raised his makeshift crutch and swatted at the thorny branches, forcing his way through until he emerged into a clearing. The moonlight pooled in a near-perfect circle on the soil and grass and scattered leaves. The trees seemed to lean away from the moonlight, hiding their bony branches in the deep, engulfing shade.

In the centre of the clearing, two long scores in the ground sat awaiting Reece's inspection. He obliged, limping over and glaring at the marks. Blood dripped into his eyes lashes, obscuring his vision until he wiped it impatiently away.

_Talon marks, I'd guess. The bastard flew away on a Pokemon._ Reece spat at the marks, his saliva bloody. There was no other trail, and no way of catching up to them with the car destroyed and the road blocked. Checking his belt, Reece's fingers probed into depressions where Pokeballs had previously been. Without any Pokemon of his own, Reece was utterly alone, in the dark, accompanied only by a silence that stole the faint warmth from his bones.

_My only shot is to try and make it to Celadon. I'll have to head through this forest to get there..._ The prospect was daunting, making the strength sap slowly from his body, until he pushed the thought away and set off, concentrating all his being on maintaining his balance and keeping on the move.

As he went, he became aware of rustles in the undergrowth. Once or twice, a Rattata would scurry along his path, or a Weedle would crawl stealthily along the branches overhanging his route. However, the further he went, the louder and more dangerous the movements became. Reece felt eyes watching his every move. Out of the corners of his wild eyes, he could snatch fleeting glimpses of a hulking figure haunting his every step. Increasing his pace, Reece felt his face contort with the pure fear of one who is aware that he is prey to an invisible predator. Unceasingly, obviously aware of his weakness, the creature stalked Reece throughout the night, sometimes closer than a stone's throw, sometimes a half mile or more away. It didn't matter, he could still hear it's roars, the horrible rasp of it's breath and the crackling of twigs and bark as it's claws and bulk alike tore through the forest.

What felt like days later, the trees began to close in, hampering Reece's progress as he tried to proceed without aggravating his injured knee. His sense of direction was shot, replaced by a desire to put as much distance between himself as the being hounding him.

Outside the forest, the moon began to dim, as streaks of dusky orange shot through the sky, slowly wreathing the land in growing sunlight. In the forest, the barest glimmer of sun rays pierced the leafy canopy, briefly illuminating Reece's torn and dirtied jumper. He was trembling all over, limping along, passing tree after tree after tree.

_Treesy tree trees..._ He giggled to himself as he went, attempting a sort of prance-limp and nearly collapsing. He had almost made that fatal mistake an hour ago when his stalker was snuffling at his heels. The sun bolstered his flagging resolve, mended his crumbling mentality. He could slowly feel his strength returning, and as a bonus, the monster on his trail seemed to be gone. To be sure, Reece waded as best he could through a stream he came across that bisected the forest. The far banks offered hope and a way out, though he couldn't be sure how close he actually was to escaping the clutches of this nightmare wood. Staggering on, watching the sun through small breaks in the enclosed canopy, Reece felt new courage.

_I'll make it to Celadon, I know it._ He thought merrily, picking up his speed a little until his knee flared painfully.

Twenty minutes of marching later, Reece rounded a tree and leant against it, sliding slowly to the ground. He was utterly exhausted, the last vestiges of his energy drained. His heartbeat slowed, the quiet thumps suddenly as loud as thunderclaps. Blood filled his head like water pouring into a capsizing ship. Glancing up as his vision began to drain of colour, he realized he was free of the trees, and a short way away, building sprouted into the sky. He heard a voice calling out as he slid sideways, his head bouncing off the ground as he slid into blissful sleep.


	11. Chapter Ten: Law and Chaos

Author's Notes: Whoo, ten chapters! Milestone #1 get!

Back to Porygon, and the appearance of some familiar faces. Read on, and enjoy!

**Chapter Ten: Law and Chaos**

As the 4-door car shot along the motorway connecting Celadon City and Saffron City, I tried to compensate for the shaking and shuddering that interfered with my eye sensors. I was perched on the rear passenger seat, my hover unit disengaged so I wouldn't have to bother adjusting my position constantly. I dedicated my time to preparing ways to break into the Silph security system without triggering alarms. For a human hacker, it would be a difficult, time-consuming process, but I was not human, and as such I was able to produce better results. I estimated a one minute seventeen second delay until I was able to hack in, and provide Team Rocket with their necessary opening.

However, the implications of what I was to do were constantly being fed to me by the core, which had remained silent since the incident in Giovanni's study. Instead, it seemed to have adopted a different tactic to bring me around. I considered, dutifully, the impact my actions would have. If I were capable of deception, I would be misleading myself to say I would have little effect on the workers of Silph Co. and the company itself. I was very much aware, though, that if I did not carry out my orders, Team Rocket would force their way in and lives would inevitably be lost, if mission reports from previous operations were accurate.

Of course, I would likely be removed from the physical world and my back up data eliminated, a concept that did not bode well with me either. Once again, I was at an impasse.

_This is not just, is it?_ I asked.

"Of course not. At least you bothered thinking." The core replied straightaway, sounding rather smug. I was tempted to swivel my eye sensors, but that would probably unnerve the other occupants of the car.

Yes, I was obviously not alone. It would be hard to transport myself to Saffron City in a vehicle that required hands and feet to operate. Peters sat next to me, while two Team Rocket members dressed in white outfits sat in the front seats. They were both fairly young, the man having blue, almost lavender coloured hair, while the girl had long locks of ruby-red. Quite startling, but then again, so was I.

_Yes, I have been thinking. I have been thinking, and I found myself with a conundrum. You are no better than Team Rocket. _I thought, peering out of the window that separated me from the outside world. Recently, my perceptions had begun to shift, and now my reality-imaging program was showing me the bars of a cage instead of a glass window. I felt the core began to emanate affrontedness, and it replied with obvious shock.

"No, Porygon, I am not! I do not experiment on helpless Pokemon, I do not lie, cheat, and steal to get what I want!" It said, it's voice amplified to fill my head.

_Instead you attempt murder and manipulate._ I rebuked. It was something had been pondering closely. So far, the core's actions had been decidedly hostile, not only towards Team Rocket, but myself as well. The voice remained silent, and I could feel it's confusion, until it realised what I was referring to.

"You want to know what's just, Porygon? That was just. Justice. He deserved it for what he's done!" It spluttered. I continued to watch the world pass by me, everything clear and sharp in detail to me. To the humans with me, the landscape would pass by too quickly to focus on. I was strangely wistful, watching trees, fields, houses and other vehicles zoom by, though I assumed that it was merely the core supplying the relevant feeling. I assumed accurately, when the emotion vanished to be replaced by impotent frustration at my next statement.

_However, you forcibly controlled me to carry out this...justice. Unarmed and helpless, it would only have been murder. And I would have been your implement, much like Team Rocket_ _seek to utilize me as. _I myself was conflicted still. My programming, not only the core, fought against itself. The closest resemblance would be antibodies destroying cells in a human's body. It was much simpler for me to repair myself, however. I simply hard-copied the data, wiped the damaged data and replaced it with a pure copy. The core fell silent, cutting off any emotion, something I was...grateful for.

The man sitting up front turned around to speak to Peters, catching my eye, so to speak, for a brief second. He looked quickly away, unease glittering in his eyes.

"We're nearly there. We'll drop you off and then circle back when you're done." He said, his voice possessing a soft, almost aristocratic inflection. I looked past him, seeing building begin to emerge in the distance, the sun framing them in a tangerine haze as it lowered slowly. The moon was already visible, but only to me. Observed only by me as we continued on our way while Peters replied to the Rocket. I ignored them both, zooming my vision in until the shaking of the car proved too unsettling. I could see in great detail, the largest craters, and the way the sun's colour blended gently with the silvery sheen of the planetoid's surface.

It was certainly fascinating. Most scientists favoured the theory that meteors peppering the planet were responsible for Clefairy's arrival on this planet. Of course, they were the ones who favoured the theory that Clefairy did indeed come from the moon.

Other scientists preferred to back the notion that Pokemon warred there many millennia ago when the Earth was still forming. Yet more scientists just went along with the idea that meteors formed the craters, and nothing odd happened. I thought any could be probable, as there was no evidence to prove any of the theories correct, or incorrect. The evidence mankind did possess was subject to interpretation, in truth.

We finally arrived in Saffron City proper, sliding away from the stream of vehicles entering and exiting the city, and maneuvering through side streets and a few back alleys. We passed by skyscrapers, which I gazed at with interest. Humans certainly were ingenious. Well, naturally, if they had the capacity to create myself.

The humans, meanwhile, were looking uninterested and bored. My short experience with humans and my massive stock of information on them reminded me that whatever they built, saw, and experienced, became rather dull for them. They were largely incapable of appreciating the works of the world, which was something of a pity.

I, on the other hand, was occupied with scanning the architecture of the buildings we rumbled past. The construction and elements involved were both amazing, proof of the power humans wielded in groups. For the remainder of the ride, I busied myself with analyzing the buildings. If I chose to, in all probability, I could collapse the structures with little effort.

The car ground to a halt, and Peters got out, straightening and stretching. I merely engaged my hover unit and floated out to hover next to his head. The man waved a hand as Peters shut the door, and the car accelerated away. We were alone, and for me, in unfamiliar terrain. So I followed Peters closely as he approached a door labelled "Employees Only" in white letters. There was a security camera bolted onto the wall above it. I altered the input from my eye sensors, and the infrared beam of the camera's view was visible to me. I scanned the camera remotely, rather than interfacing with it directly, and fed it a loop. Effectively, it would not pick us up. I floated ahead of Peters, who took the cue and strode behind me, pushing the door open for me.

Heading inside, I found myself in a stairwell, which only had one set leading up to a second door. It was fairly dark in here, with only a single bulb to chase away the dark. I followed Peters as he approached the door, watching as he took a small tag from his pocket and fastened it on. Pushing the door open, he walked inside confidently.

It appeared probability was on our side. At this time in the evening, most of the employees would have left. However, I remained cautious, unlike Peters, who seemed to be unaware of the consequences if we were discovered. He sped off down the hallway, at the end of which I could see an elevator. To the right of the stairway we had ascended, I spotted a second one. The door to it was open, oddly. Following Peters more closely, I peered into the rooms we passed. Some of them appeared to be locked with shutters over the doors, presumably to prevent illegal entry. After a scan of the wall, I found that the walls themselves would not stand up to an assault from a sufficiently strong Pokemon or human, or tool thereof. Humans often overlooked things, it seemed.

Peters was waiting by the lift, the doors of which appeared to be locked. I floated over, accessing the program holding the doors locked. Apparently, it would require a lift key. I, however, needed no such object, and rewrote the program to remain unlocked at all times. I felt the core re-establish a connection with my own, pushing doubt into me as I worked. It was getting faintly unsettling, these emotions being forced upon me.

Presently, the lift doors slid open, to reveal a gaping blackness. Peters peered inside, craning his neck upwards while I wrestled to make the core "bugger off" as I had heard a Rocket say the night previously. Peters was grumbling to himself as he pushed the call button. I ignored him. It was rather rare the scientist said anything of note. There was a quite loud whir as the elevator capsule ground down to us, opening it's own set of doors when it was halted. Inside we went, with myself watching once again as Peters pushed the button.

"I can't believe you're going through with this." The voice muttered rebelliously as I managed to cut it off. It seemed a lot of my time was spent ignoring and resisting others. The lift rose up to the fifth floor, upon which the security room was apparently located. From there, I would fulfil my objective...

When we came to a stop and the doors opened, however, we came across a guard patrolling the hallway before us. He peered into a door as he froze, then straightened and turned to face the elevator. Unfortunately, we had nowhere to hide, and he spotted us immediately. His eyes roved over me, wonder and suspicion etched on his face. He stepped closer, his gaze settling on Peters. He visibly relaxed when he spotted the outfit and nametag my companion was wearing, and waved a hand at us.

"Ah, staying late tonight?" He asked Peters jovially, who exited the elevator, nodding with a sheepish grin. He was an admirable actor.

"Yep, heading over to the lab." He said vaguely as we passed the guard, who nodded. Obviously, it didn't occur to him to question my presence. News of my capture would surely have spread by now. Or, rather not as it appeared. We rounded the corner, passing the same set of stairs I saw on the second floor, and I spotted the security room door up ahead.

It was marked as such, with white letters like the employee entrance outside. We entered the room, surprising a security guard who was about to exit. Peters threw the door open the rest of the way, making the wood material of the door connect rather forcefully with the hapless man's head and chest, knocking him down, and out cold as he uttered a short yelp. To be sure, I scanned his vital signs, and felt the core's relief at his continued existence. Peters shut the door behind us, while I hovered towards the computer banks. A wall full of monitors displaying video feeds of various cameras greeted me, their soft glow making my body illuminate that bit brighter. The colours of my body reflected onto the dark walls, bathing them in a pinkish-turquoise glow that was oddly comforting. Peters took a USB device from his pocket, the device he had used to manifest me in the physical world, and plugged it in to a random computer.

I hovered over it, and felt an odd feeling. My hover unit and gyro-stabilizers went crazy, struggling at maximum power for a moment while my body seemed to fracture and come apart.

And then I saw ones and zeroes again, much to chagrin of the core. It threw up a image of the same sunny field that I had seen when it first made it's existence known to me. I shut of my eye sensors and set about my assigned task.

"Last chance, Porygon. If you do this, then there's no going back. If the Rockets kill anyone, on their way in, it's your fault." The core probed at my defences, trying to win me over.

_Cease your interactions with me._ I retorted, entering into the network of cameras and runtimes that filled the memory of this computer. The cameras were only observational tools to let the guards on duty know of intruders like ourselves, while triggering the alert was reserved for various fire alarm switches and a button inside this room. Effectively, only a human could trigger the alarm, although a wireless signal that I detected traced back to a device that it appeared the unconscious guard was carrying. This device could trigger the alarm remotely, and the only way to shut off an alarm was with the proper authorization code entered into this terminal.

It was quite simple to rewrite the programming, disconnect the runtimes, and make the alarm inoperable under all circumstances. The core emanated growing anger and a sense of defeat as I finished my work. I exited the system, manifesting back into the physical world with that same tugging sensation.

Peters turned to me, glee and ugly triumph on his features.

"It's done?" He asked, almost scraping the skin from his hands as he rubbed them together.

"Yes." I replied shortly. He turned away, and I made to follow.

_...Should I have resisted? What if it is right, and lives will be lost needlessly? Having experienced this world, I do not think I could sit by and let others lose their opportunity to do so. _I thought, sealing myself away from the core. I remained conflicted as we exited the room, mulling it over and over. Perhaps...perhaps I could obey both urges of my programming. Remotely, I dove back into the network. Instead of restoring the original state of the program, I made it so all the rooms in the building could be locked from the inside. In all probability, the Rockets may overlook their ability to break through the walls when their operation commenced. My runtimes were, strangely, no longer fighting each other, and I could stop recycling my data.

The core knew nothing of my editing, too occupied with it's emotions. In a way, I was grateful I had none. Being able to perceive the world with perfect clarity...it was good not to be constrained by petty things.

We made our way back down, using the stairs this time to avoid the guard who was still patrolling the floor. It would not be long before the man we incapacitated would be discovered, so we hurried as best we could. Peters was puffing heavily as we used the employee entrance to leave. Once out of visual range, I eliminated the loop, restoring the camera's function to normal. The car was waiting, engine growling like a Poochyena as Peters opened the door. I hovered inside, settling on the seat once again. The car dipped to the side as Peters clambered in, and then we were off.

I wondered, the full duration of the return journey, whether I had had done all I could.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Mirage

Author's Notes: It's quite lucky I'm off with flu, gives me that bit more time to write up your daily fix! Enjoy today's chapter, I've been thinking about this one since the day before yesterday.

**Chapter Eleven: Mirage**

Slowly, Jenny dragged herself awake. When she tried to massage her throbbing temples, she became aware of tight pressure crushing her arms to her sides. Her eyes flicked open, or she thought they did. Thick tar-like blackness was all she could see, looking this way and that for a break in the stifling dark. With none to be found, Jenny focused on struggling against the binds holding her arms in place. She wriggled back and forth like a Caterpie on a fish-hook, flexing her arms and wrists as best she could, although to no avail. From what she could feel, it was not ropes that constricted her, but thick coils of some kind of scales. She was perched on a chair of what felt like wood, that creaked as she moved. There was a loud hiss, and her bonds tightened.

Upon realizing this, Jenny stopped struggling. If it was a Pokemon holding her, then she didn't want to aggravate it. Arbok had a nasty tendency to swallow anything they could wrap their coils around, which was precisely the position the young officer found herself in. Suddenly, there was a second hiss from the thing, and a door creaked open agonizingly slowly. Footsteps thudded heavily, echoes bouncing off the walls and ceiling. A short click, and then light exploded into life with all the intensity of a supernova.

Jenny yelped, squeezing her pained eyes shut, her head throbbing from the brightness that now pervaded the room she was in. When she let her eyes open again, squinting like an old woman, she saw a man with blonde hair facing her. A sadistic grin was etched upon his youthful face as he bent over, leaning in close to her face.

"Hello, Jenny," He whispered sibilantly, before straightening with a giggle. "Or do you prefer Officer?" He asked, making a mock salute, before clicking his left forefinger and thumb. Another hiss, and the pressure on her ribs was at the breaking point. Able to see now, Jenny found she was indeed correct. It was an Arbok that held her tight, it's embrace like a gross parody of a lover's grip. Lucas watched her, seeming to enjoy her discomfort.

"You've been meddling, Jen! That won't do, will it?" He chastised her like a school teacher would a troublesome student, wagging a finger at her. "Team Rocket doesn't like meddlers..." He trailed off the sentence, hissing like a Ekans himself. His eyes narrowed dangerously at her, and her heart skipped a beat. Fear and loathing mixed in equal measure in her chest, squirming and churning, as if she had swallowed a pair of live Rattata. The irony was sickening.

Remaining as still as possible, Jenny glared back at Lucas, glad that the Arbok grasped her so tight he could not see her legs tremble in horror. Her mind supplied the images, the fear of the unknown kicking her imagination into overdrive as she desperately tried to ignore the guesses at her imminent fate. Saliva dripped onto her shoulder, seeping through her blouse instantly. Craning her head back, she shrieked as she beheld the Arbok's gaping maw swaying above her head in time to Lucas' gently wagging finger. A gleeful laugh tore it's way from Lucas' throat, and he waved a hand, the Arbok withdrawing it's hooded head at the silent command.

Trying to swallow the bile rising in her throat, Jenny stared Lucas in the eye as best she could.

"Y-you're that Rocket Admin, huh? Lucas, isn't it? You're that sadistic monster who likes to torture people and Pokemon alike!" She growled, trying to suppress the shudders in her voice. Lucas only grinned wider, white teeth flashing now. It was like a mask, Jenny thought dimly as felt the Arbok squeeze again. His exterior beauty was a sham, a layer to be swept aside, to expose his true face, that of a monster who took delight from the most horrific things. Disgust welled up inside her, stifling her growing anger and reducing her to base instinct as it finally sunk in what was about to happen. She threw herself back and forth, a scream ripping the air like desperate claws until the Arbok's coils crushed the breath from her lungs.

Gasping, Jenny tried to suck in precious air, black spots fading into her vision and multiplying as tears began to trickle from her eyes. A finger gloved in pristine white wiped away one of the salty droplets as Lucas leant in close, his voice emanating sadness and regret.

"I'm sorry, princess. Sweet dreams." He muttered, while Jenny's mind screamed and raged at the gathering void. False, fake, faux, none of it was real! It was a nightmare that she couldn't wake up from, even as she spiralled away into unconsciousness.

_Meanwhile, near Celadon City..._

Reece bolted up upright, stifling a roar of denial, one hand extended in front of him. Then the pain washed over him like a destructive tsunami of magma, loosing a pained groan as he flopped back, his head bouncing off soft, comforting satin. Reece paused, his groan abruptly cut off as he blinked. Satin?

Reece looked around him in wonder. He was no longer collapsed among the leaf litter of the forest's edge. Gone was the cold and the damp, gone were the icy fingers trailing his spine, gone was the urge to give in. Instead he was laid on a gorgeous bed, upon the softest mattress, a duvet of feathers tucked close around him, the cover of which was knitted entirely from grounded Mareep cotton, in the pattern of running Farfetch'd.

Grunting stubbornly as he pushed himself up, Reece took stock of the rest of the cabin, for that was what he appeared to be inside. The walls were a light lilac colour, while the curtains hanging across an hidden window were grassy green. An office chair of sapphire blue sat in front of a desk the colour of fire-hardened obsidian. A look downwards revealed a lush carpet of tangerine that clashed horribly with the thunder-yellow of the Mareep-duvet. There was a quiet ticking, and Reece tried to pinpoint it, eyes eventually coming to rest upon a Meowth clock hanging on the wall next to the desk. The googled eyes slid back and forth while the tail acted as a pendulum, arcing in time to the ticks.

_Where in the hell am I?_ Reece asked himself, dazed. The tiredness was erased from his body, making him feel as good as new. His knee, however, was not and ground it's protest against his nerves when he tried to slip out of the bed. Foiled, Reece lay back again as a comforting, delicious smell pervaded his nostrils. It smelled like porridge and cinnamon, casting the detective back to his childhood, when his mother used to make him the exact dish. Closing his eyes, Reece took in an appreciative sniff, sitting back up as he opened his eyes.

What greeted him would likely have given him a heart attack were he not so relaxed.

"Mum?" It was indeed, or appeared to be, his mother. Youth restored, all lines gone from her face, silver hair returned to lightest brown. Her skin was soft once more, taut and vibrant, while her eyes sparkled with life and joy. And she looked so, so happy. Reece found himself curiously at ease with this revelation, though there was a nagging feeling, some corner of his mind trying to communicate with him. It sounded like a voice far away across the oceans, and it was so far away it went unheeded as Reece leaned forward, took the carved wooden tray from his mother's hands, setting it down gently with nary a clatter, on a bedside table made from sanded oak that he just knew was there.

Then they embraced, joy and wonder bursting inside Reece like buds of a rose, beginning to bloom. They remained locked together for a few minutes, and when they let go, reluctantly, Reece felt drained, as if the world had lost some hidden happiness. Though he did not dwell on it, instead trying once more to climb from the bed, even as that faraway voice warned him back. His mother began to flap at him concernedly.

"No, no! Don't try and move, honey. You're still hurt. I can't believe you! Still so irresponsible. You know, I don't know why your father let you drive that car." She pushed him down, tucking him back in like a child. Her every touch lit a fire in his skin that faded as quickly as her contact did, lessening Reece's will to move until he was quite content to sit and watch as she chided him.

"But the car crash wasn't your fault, Reece. If I've told Wilma once, I've told her a thousand times that her boy is not to give you alcohol, no matter who he gets permission from!" She picked up the bowl of porridge, spooning up some of the thick, gloopy oats and lowering it to Reece's mouth.

_Wait!_ Reece clamped his mouth shut suddenly, confusion piercing his contented mind. Then it was gone, the fading memory of a frozen autumn morning. He blinked, eyes beginning to tire as he held up a hand.

"W-what? Wilma...?" He asked quietly, trying to marshal his scattered thoughts. His mother looked annoyed, placing the bowl down and dropping the spoon back in.

"Yes, Wilma! Mother of your little friend Tommy?" She said, exasperated and worried at the same time. "Oh, you must have hit your head quite hard..." She trailed off, then lifted up the bowl again. Reece was lost now, sluggishly dragging his mind into order.

"Tommy? Mum, Tommy's been dead for years." Reece said, his words echoing strangely.

_Dead...for years._ The words reverberated in his head. Memories trickled back like water flowing through a cracking dam. _The crash. A forest. Pain...cold._ The voice grew stronger now, sounding closer and closer with every second. The comforting house began to feel cold and empty, devoid of something. Something that felt like life. Reece sat up, even as his mother tried to push him back down. He shrugged her off, aware of blood staining the pillow and duvet suddenly. It dripped in thick streams down his face, while his knee throbbed.

"C-crash..." Reece muttered, while his mother tried to push him back down.

"You're babbling, Reece, you're not well! Lay down, rest. You'll feel better!" She said soothingly. The clock clicked once, and then began to announce the time in a tinny, distorted voice. It wasn't a real voice, and something in Reece's mind latched onto that.

_Not real...not real...not real._ The two words rebounded inside his skull, even as he staggered, trying to stand. Blood drenched everything, and there was a long, loud shriek. It sounded like a lost soul falling into eternal darkness. Reece tried to see through the blood that flecked his vision, dimly making out his mother tearing at her hair, uttering that keening cry. The window blew inwards, the curtains tearing apart under the deluge of glass, and the house itself began to crumble, fragment into nothingness. The world turned to a swirling whirlpool of crimson liquid, as a skull bobbed gently in the current next to Reece as he found himself drowning. A single red eye winked at him seductively, then was gone, under the surface without even a ripple.

Closer, and close to the center of the vortex Reece was dragged, until a soft pink glow filled his eyes.

_It's not real. Just a nightmare. Wake up..._ a quiet, genderless voice urged him, and he felt everything fade. No thought, no emotion. The world was silent, colourless and infinitely large. Reece felt insignificant in the face of the power he felt himself facing. A pink sphere twinkled nearby, the only colour in a grey pastel world of monochromatic loss. Reece reached forward, straining against invisible ties. His fingers scrabbled at the air, barely centimetres from touching the orb. His fingertips brushed the pink orb ever so gently, more gently than the stroke of a feather.

A shattering sound, and the world vanished. Reece blinked his weary eyes open, forcing himself slowly to sit up. His clothes, ragged and torn, hung from his body. Dried blood caked his face and his knee pulsed. Fatigue drenched his soul, and something made him look up, to see a hulking shape encompassed in vibrant pink energy.

It was a Dusclops, it's single eye glaring hatefully at a floating little thing, that looked not unlike a cat. The Dusclops body was split down the center in a rift, inside which swirled a red blaze of fire. The fire burned Reece's eyes, and he shielded them away from the mystical glow. The cat-like thing stared with narrowed eyes at the Dusclops, which struggled against it's prison with pounding fists. The cat lashed it's pink tail, and the Dusclops roared as the energy surrounding it compressed, and then it was gone. Gone from all existence.

Reece uncovered his eyes, looking around. He was in the ruins of an old cabin, surrounded by debris. And he was, once more, alone.

_Was it all a dream? Or...am I cracking up?_ Reece wondered. Then his brain stirred back into activity. _The crash...Jenny! _ He got to his feet carefully, picking up a length of wood from the ground, began hobbling towards the distant buildings.

A pair of baby blue eyes peered over the crumbling roof, watching the departing human. There was a pink flash, and the eyes were gone.

_You owe me._ Reece stopped, looking over his shoulder for a moment. There was nothing but the wrecked cabin. He shrugged and continued on his way.


	13. Chapter Twelve: Solitary Confinement

Author's Notes: Afternoon everyone! I keep writing these chapters right after I wake up, it's starting to make me even more sleepy! Also, last chapter was pretty dark, yes, but I love those lil' ghosties! It's fun to take the general perception of them and mix it up!

Anyway, enjoy this chapter!

**Chapter Twelve: Solitary Confinement**

I first became aware of Team Rocket's eventual plans for me three days after our operation at the Silph Co. Building. It happened by accident; I had returned to the interior of the network, and was gathering up all the newly added data for the day. I had been archiving it all and saving it to my permanent memory, when the core pushed a specific document at me. It was titled, quite simply, "Plans". Intrigued, I opened it, watching a wall of text appear before me. I scrolled up to the top of it, reading through at a speed only I could muster.

To say it was a shock would be to say the least. I re-read the document twice over before I was satisfied. I also expected the core to provide a suitably snide comment, though it offered none, merely seethed. I closed the document, dutifully filing it away. However, I gave it some serious consideration.

A super-weapon. How imaginative. It is probable, after all. If I acquired the knowledge to perform Self-Destruct, I would become an infinite supply of suicide bombs. And of course, Hyper Beam is a very effective move in the physical world...

I continued to ponder this, all the while that the data was filing and sorting. It was unsettling, and well within Team Rocket's ability to do. What I had witnessed three days prior only firmed my certainty that these plans would eventually come to light, no matter what actions I took.

"There are always other avenues of thought you haven't considered, my logical friend." The core put in, floating about me in a distracting way. I remained still until it stopped spiralling around me, and then replied.

_I can make an educated guess. You would rather I deleted all my backup data and either erased myself or escaped? _It was hardly a query, more a conclusion that even the smallest human could have made. The core pulsed, and spoke again.

"Yes. You don't have to remain a prisoner here, you know. Of course, the real _query_, Porygon, is whether you want to be a tool for evil. You can stay here and rot, and by extension, so will I-" The core pulled up the document again, the words materializing behind it. "because you and I are linked. Inseperably, I would be willing to guess. Whatever you choose affects me, and vice versa. I think I could overpower you, but I don't want to. I was thinking about what you said, and you were right. For once. I was acting no better than Team Rocket. But if you care so much about justice, why go along with this?" The core pulsed expectantly while I considered.

It was a conundrum, to which I had only questions of my own to pose. The most stand-out one was; Why me? But I already knew the answer to that. I was created on the whim of a human, to serve humans. Just, not these humans. My edited programming was what made me incapable of resisting to any great degree, and I was sure the core knew that. His reasons for probing at me like this were with one goal in mind; attaining my liberty, and by extension, his own.

Perhaps I could make my own way...it would be difficult, I did not know what the consequences of ignoring my programming would be. It was highly probable that it would force a system shutdown, causing me to, in effect, die. That was another question: Was I alive? If I possessed no emotion, merely logic and the ability to tell the absence thereof, was I truly a lifeform? I was capable of reproduction via copies, rational thought, speech, and judgement, but not emotion. I had forgotten to seal myself away from the core, who was observing my deliberations with interest and what I perceived to be a kind of amused sadness.

It pulsed again, throwing up an image of a hillside covered in golden-furred mammals. They had violet skin, tails ringed in black and yellow with a blue sphere at the tip. Mareep, a great flock of them.

"A machine dreaming of electric sheep?" The core said, laughing in a bitter fashion. It shot off into the middle distance, swooping under a Mareep so it's wool was ruffled, ignoring the electric discharge it expelled from it's fluffy golden coat. The core floated back over to me and bodded up and down in front of me slowly.

"Seriously, Porygon. Make a choice." It said, as it appeared to face the Mareep on the hillside again. Then the image was gone, as was the core. But only from sight.

_Humans would envy your showmanship._ I felt the core grow more amused, then it sealed itself off. I was left alone with my thoughts, such as they were. It was easy to over-analyze this, which I seemed to be doing. I was preoccupied with the concern that the only reason I possessed this degree of free thought and self-awareness was because I was made to. If that was the case, I would never really posses free thought. My actions would permanently be guided by runtimes and routines coded into my core.

Presently, I became aware of Peters entering the lab. It was the first time I had seen him in the three days since our return. Security cameras had detected him leaving with a trio of Team Rocket Admins. I had not bothered keeping an eye out for my creator's return. I decided I owed him no more than I did any other human. At any rate, he seated himself at the desk, opening up a conversation with me. I did not desire to talk, but I had no choice.

_Porygon, we're moving you to a more secure area. Three days ago we intercepted some police officers. We captured one, but was freed. Now the pair of them are on their way here with backup. You will be moved down a floor, near the cell blocks. If they attempt to seize you, wipe your memory clear. That is an order. _

I was about to reply when he abruptly closed the program off and exited the lab while I watched him through the Webcam. After some minutes, two Rocket members hurried in, and bustled about disconnecting the computer from the server humming away in the corner. They then unplugged the computed, but I had predicted this and sealed myself off.

The next thing I was aware of, power was restored to the computer, and I could function again. Unsealing myself, while ignoring a yawn and grumble from the core, I set about determining my new location. A quick wireless connection proved useful, as I discovered that I was now on B3F. Giovanni had apparently moved to his secondary study on the floor below, where a security feed showed him preparing a speech of some kind. I wondered what was happening, when the core changed feeds for me.

It was an exterior view of the Celadon Game Corner, according to the serial number in the bottom right corner of the image. Police vehicles of all descriptions surrounded the building. A few fleeing Rockets had already been apprehended. It seemed they were going to raid this place. Officers were making their way inside even as I watched. The camera panned slowly to the right, away from the police. There was a faint movement, so fast it nearly eluded me. The core suddenly pulsed with joy, something I found odd. However, my attention was distracted by a loud explosion from one of the upper floors, that shook the computer off the table it had been perched on. I did not feel the impact, but the monitor's Webcam which I was still using could see the black box crash into the floor. Part of the casing broke away, but I was unaffected.

Hopefully the battle above would calm sooner rather than later.

Ps: Yes, terribly short chapter. I'm ashamed to even submit this, really...but I just cannot think of anything else to set up what I had in mind for Jenny and Reece. The next three chapters will be focusing on their escapades over the three day interval, culminating with the end of the arc. And then we can move onto some of the stuff I have drafted up!


	14. Chapter Thirteen: On the Hunt

Author's Notes: Here we are with third-to-last chapter of this arc! Enjoy the ride!

**Chapter Thirteen: On the Hunt**

_Three days earlier..._

Jenny's breaths came quick and desperate, echoing in the dark room. Everything was obscure to her, the absence of light as opaque as granite. Possibly the worst part of her containment was never knowing how long it had been since Lucas had vacated the hateful, pokey little room, and when he was coming back. She didn't know whether she hated his absence or his presence more. He had seen fit to have his Arbok unwind it's sinuous length from her body, and leave with him. Now she cowered in the furthest corner of the room, trying to make out any form of detail. Anything to take her mind off the terrible loneliness, the petrifying solitude. It was a fruitless endeavour, but she thought she might become a gibbering wreck before she ever got out of here.

_I wonder...is Reece even still alive?_ She thought back to the crash, the last thing she had seen before the beautiful car had ended it's life against the solid tree trunk. Sparkling diamonds which she had later realized were fragments of the windscreen. For all Jenny knew, it could have been days, or weeks, since then. She wasn't injured, that much she was indeed grateful for, but another constant worry had been added to the ever-growing list in Jenny's brain. Now she was worried for Reece, even as she heard the rusty door handle squeak downwards and pushed herself further into the corner, wishing she could just melt through and be free of this place.

There was a bright halogen light in the corridor, framing Lucas as he stood in the doorway, with light spilling into the room. He quickly spotted her shuddering in the corner, and clicked his fingers impatiently.

"Come along, come along. It's time to begin, Officer." He said, with a terrible, gleeful anticipation. His hair was as perfect as ever, his face flawless and body moulded like a chiselled statue, but to Jenny he was nothing more than a gross miss-creation by some higher power that saw fit to dredge into the genetic soup bowl. He grinned at her, striding into the room, and grabbed her by the arm. He hoisted her up, placing her on her feet, the left one of which was promptly planted into his groin. The toe point of the high-heel dug, most likely agonizingly, in as Lucas let out an odd sound like a cross between a balloon deflating and a cat trying to hork up a hairball. Needless to say, a all-round unattractive noise that Jenny did not stick around to hear.

She hurled herself towards the door, which lay open. The bright hallway beckoned to her, a hallway lined with rusted pipes and an open door along the eastern side. Further down, a left turn bisected the corridor, folding it like a clumsy origami figure. Jenny put on burst of speed, going as fast as she could in her heels. Her ribs began to pound within seconds and her collarbone felt like it was splintering, until something caught her by the collar as she ran past, while a different something wound around her legs.

Stopped dead, Jenny looked up, into the stern face of a raven-haired man, whom she instantly recognized as Tyrone. Lucas' Arbok bound her legs tightly together, and there her escape attempt ended.

A few minutes later, Jenny found herself perched upon the rickety wooden chair again, with the Arbok hissing sinisterly in her ear, while Lucas stood in front of her, a few strands of his expertly-styled hair hanging loose over his flushed face, which held an expression of abject rage. Jenny made a _hmph_ sound and turned her face away, until Lucas' gloved hand gently turned it back to face him. He continued to stare, his gaze boring into her own. His eyes were a dull, mischevious green, but now they were full of malice. As he stared, he let a smile fix onto his face, growing larger by the second until he was grinning like a maniac. The effect was quite something, and Jenny was filled with unease as a woman with red hair pushed a small trolley into the room, not unlike those toolcarts used in a hospital.

Unlike a hospital tool cart, it was plainly not used for surgery of the healing sort. An assortment of tools were scattered haphazardly on the aluminium cart, all of which rattled as Lucas ran his hand over them. Near the edge lay a implement shaped like a four centimetre sickle. Next to it lay a scalpel, but the blade had been bent around, curved so the point and the base nearly touched. This one he picked up, slipping off the glove on his left hand and transferring the tool to the bare hand. Dried blood or rust flecked the blade, which Lucas ran his bare index finger over, licking his lips as he stared Jenny in the eyes with his penetrating gaze. She trembled like a leaf as he touched the horrible mockery of a scalpel to her cheek.

"Shall we start the makeover...?" He breathed, then yelped as the red-head punched him on the air and began whispering in his ear. She had to lift herself on tip-toes to be heard. Lucas rolled his eyes and groaned like a boy who had just been grounded, and placed the tool lovingly on the cart as the red-head pushed it out. Jenny heaved a sigh of relief, which was cut short when Lucas slammed his bare fist into her gut. Her ribs flared painfully as she dry-retched, tears forming in her eyes as the wind was knocked out of her. Lucas made his way to the door, clicking his fingers, the sound possessing the same finality as a funeral bell. The Arbok hissed quietly and slithered out of the door, which Lucas shut behind them, and locked it. The creak of the door was a heartrending groan as Jenny hunched over in the chair, hugging her arms to her stomach.

The blackness returned, thick and shifting like a shroud. No longer did she try to see through it, instead she allowed it to take her, sinking into sleep.

_Meanwhile..._

Reece sat on the edge of the bed. He was in the Celadon hospital, locally known as Celadon General. His head and knee throbbed in equal measure as blood was forced through, regardless of damage. It was like a truck driving over a collapsed bridge, with the rubble being his shattered kneecap. His nerves shrieked almost constantly, until he had been handed a bottle of codeine pills.

_Oooh, sweets._ He had thought sarcastically, gulping one down, but he was grateful for it now. The painkillers did what they said on the tin, for a while at least. He felt better, fresher than he had last night. Flopping back on the bed, he tried to recall the memories that lay somewhere in his dizzy and dazed head. He could just about remember a vibrant pink ball, possessing more colour than even the most wonderful of flowers. He rubbed a hand down his face, cheeks stretching comically before snapping back into place like elastic.

A nurse and doctor duo were bustling around the ward, which held only three other paitents, one of which was also a police officer. Apparently, Team Rocket had blown by and taken this guy out when he had tried to stop them. He lay unconscious, dribbling from the corner of his mouth even as Reece watched. He groaned, standing up, ignoring the dull flare from his knee. The codeine seemed to be doing it's job, at any rate. He would've preferred Paracetamol, but it appeared they didn't stock it in the hospital pharmacy.

_Well...it's about time I got out of here, anyway..._ Reece though, hobbling towards the exit of the ward. The doctor whacked him in the chest with a clipboard, barring him from freedom, and tutted.

"Just where do you think you're going, Mr. Wilson?" The doctor asked, pushing his glasses further up his hooked nose as he watched. He was one of those doctors to whom "bedside manner" meant "don't talk to paitents with your mouth full." Needless to say, it didn't win him any popularity contests.

"I need to check in with my Chief, Doctor. So, direct me to a phone and move out of the way, please." He muttered, watching the nurse fuss over the out-cold officer. He thought he saw a glint of red, but he shook it off. Likely he was seeing things from the concussion he probably had. The doc appeared to be of the same mind, trying to chivvy him back to his bed.

"Come now, Mr. Wilson. There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, you need to rest." He attempted to reason, but the smile stuck on his face like a tarred feather, and was just as unwanted. Reece ignored him, stepping around the shorter man and heading for the ward exit. As he went, pushing the double doors open to take his leave, he heard the officer mutter something. The nurse leant closer, trying to hear what he said, repeating it back to check if she heard it right. Her incredulous, uneasy tone made Reece stop, and whirl round as she spoke.

"Electrode...use Explosion?" A red and white sphere rolled out from under the officer's bed, who suddenly leapt from it and rolled across the floor, curling himself into a ball. There was the barest pause.

"Elect..." And then came the explosion. The ward tore itself apart under the fury of the blast, once pristine walls and sterile floors cracking and blackening while a rolling flame burst forth, towards Reece, who grabbed the doctor, hurled him bodily through the double doors, and dove after him. He felt the flame scorch the top of his head as he hit the ground heavily on his front, cracking his knee and tearing up instantly. There was a muted _whump_ as the nurse's body slammed into the ward wall, while the injured woman next to the fake-policeman lay motionless on the floor, her gown ablaze. The fake officer stumbled out of the ward, a fanatical grin on his face. One of his arms was missing, spraying a thin jet of crimson. Reece recoiled from the sight, even as the man collapsed onto Reece, headbutting him forcefully. Retching, Reece shoved the man away, kicking at his scrabbling hands. The doctor had long since fled, and screams filled the hallway. Reece wiped his sweating face, suddenly realizing the danger.

The fire had ignited the area outside the ward doors, and now hungry orange-and-red embers were consuming the ceiling and walls. Sparks and fragments of the ceiling dropped onto Reece, who covered his head and ducked, bearing the brunt of the impact, which threatened to throw him to the floor. The one-armed man had managed to get to his feet, and tackled Reece as he got up. The breath driven out of his lungs, Reece gasped and choked as the man punched with his remaining fist, hammering blows on Reece's face. Stunned and in pain once more, Reece managed to catch the man's wrist, deal him a body blow and roll out from underneath him. It was the man's turn to gasp for breath, even as his stump sluggishly pumped more of his vitality onto the floor. Smoke was gathering in thick, suffocating clouds, so Reece remained crouched, holding an arm across his mouth and nose.

"Why did you do this!" He demanded of the coughing, one-armed man, who tried to laugh. A bubbling rasp was all that escaped his lips.

"Team Rocket don't like you, Mr. Wilson...we don't like you at all." He replied, a fit of coughs racking his prone form. Reece gritted his teeth, snarling at the man, then kicked him in the cheek, knocking the man out, and this time there would be no explosive surprises. Reece reached down, unclipping the Pokeball that remained at the man's torn belt, then dragged the Rocket by his foot, staggering along as fast as he could make himself go. Eventually, they made it to the stairs. Reece glanced at the Rocket, shrugged, and set off down them. The one-armed man's head bounced with muted impacts off each stair as they descended, until a second nurse spotted Reece as they entered into the reception. She hurried over to help, grabbing the man by the shoulders. To her credit, she didn't flinch at his missing arm, nor drop him in shock. She saved that until they were outside, free of the conflagration that was growing rapidly inside.

The first few fire engines had already appeared, with water Pokemon of all descriptions being called out. A trio of firefighters with a Cloyster and two Vaporeons ran inside, while a Poliwrath stood upon one of the vehicles and let loose a jet of water through the windows where flames could be seen roiling.

Reece sat down heavily on the pavement, letting the Rocket flop as well, and groaned. No doubt he was blackened and grimy, not to mention bloodsoaked. He glared hatefully at the man snoozing peacefully next to him, tempted to stamp on his throat, and end it there. But he held back, instead getting to his feet and limping over to a squad car that had shown up. He sat heavily on the bonnet, massaging his knee and taking the tube of pills from his pocket. Mercy had decided to save the pills, for none were broken and the bottle was intact. Popping the lid, Reece gulped two down dry and replaced the lid and tube in his pocket. An officer approached him, asking him to move or some such. In reply, Reece unclipped his badge from his belt and thrust it at the officer, who blinked.

"Oh! Hey, Chief Roscoe has been raging about finding you since yesterday! He wants you to check in ASAP!" He said, gesturing to the radio in the car, then began moving onlookers and pedestrians away from the fire engines and the building itself. Reece slid off the bonnet and clambered into the passenger seat of the squad car, unhooking the radio handset.

"Wilson here. I'm jacking this radio. Put me through to Roscoe please." He grumbled, laying back in the seat and closing his eyes wearily. The pills were making him a little drowsy.

"Wilson! Godamnit, you're lucky I don't have your badge! Is Jenny with you!" He demanded. Reece could picture the aging man easily, purple with apopalectic rage, jumping up and down in his office. Reece rubbed his eyes with his cleaner hand before replying.

"No, Chief." He said. Then the deluge really started. After asking why in the hell not, Roscoe proceeded to go on a rant for five minutes, barely taking the time to breathe in between sentences. When he finally was calmer, he sounded genuinely concerned, rather than just enraged.

"I don't know where she is. We were on our way to Saffron City, via the back roads. Some accident on the motorway, I don't know...Anyway we were heading that way, when this tree fell right in front of us. I hit it, and blacked out. Next thing I knew, I'm waking up in the pouring rain, my car ffffucked, and with a shattered kneecap! Then I trekked through the forest off Route Seven, and managed to get to the hospital here, in Celadon." Reece relayed all this information, managing to convey his frustration and tiredness, as well as his worry and anger. He grumbled to himself for a few seconds as he waited for Roscoe's reply. When it came, it was in a tone of voice he had never heard the man use. It was kindly. It was like hearing about a Magikarp being useful.

"Look, head over to Saffron City. Get some rest at the branch HQ, and tomorrow we'll get you back on the trail, okay?" He wheedled, while Reece just stared at the radio in shock. He was too incredulous to do anything but agree in a daze.

Since when was Roscoe _nice_?


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Hide and Seek

Author's Notes: Looks like we'll be ending this arc on an even number! Pretty cool. Yeah, I have nothing to say here. Go read, shoo!

Most of this chapter was typed while listening to Never Meant to Belong, from the Bleach soundtrack, played on the violin by BenChanViolin of Youtube. Check it out if you like.

**Chapter Fourteen: Hide and Seek**

_Two days ago..._

The darkness was becoming something of a state of mind for Jenny. It filled her mind in a mire of hopelessness. She had never been kidnapped before, nor held against her will. While a new experience, it was one Jenny would give anything to never repeat. She had almost given up on the idea of rescue, and escape just seemed impossible. Tyrone had taken to watching the door while Lucas was inside with her, ensuring she didn't try to repeat her escape attempt from yesterday.

Lucas himself had eschewed the tools in favour of simply toying with her endlessly. The first time he had entered the room that morning, he was clutching a syringe. As he sterilized the needle with a lighter, he told her in no short terms that the little glass tube contained a powerful hallucinogenic. She had reacted in the manner he had expected her to, with first defiance and struggles, then she had given in at the prick of the needle penetrating the crook of her arm. The hateful liquid had drained slowly, made ever more agonizingly slow as Lucas pushed the plunger down a fraction of an inch at a time. She had been forced to watch as he withdrew the syringe, dabbing at the miniscule hole with a bit of cotton, placing a plaster over the wound, all the while speaking sweetly to her about what she had in store.

It had been two hours since he had done so, and Jenny was in the thrall of visions that dwelled in only the deepest recesses of her mind, and her nightmares. Even though she was tired to the bone, it would grant her no reprieve from the horrors assailing her altered mind. Some tiny part of her mind retained rationality and lucidity, but she could not comprehend those things. Her deepest fears, most horrible deeds, and most depraved imaginings were laid bare before her, and Lucas, who sat opposite her in a chair much like hers. Where she sagged, oblivious to the world with pupils dilated, Lucas reclined comfortably, arms folded. He giggled at every twitch her numbed limbs made, and every shudder and shriek caused him to laugh heartily.

Tyrone stood outside the room, leant against the wall in boredom. He was used to Lucas' monstrous sense of humour, but every time he pulled a stunt like this, it made him sick. That is not to say the raven-haired man sympathized. He cared nothing for the latest victim of his blonde comrade, only for how long it would take before Lucas turned her into a trembling, gibbering wreck of a person as he had so many others. They were the reason the public were not informed of every one of Team Rocket's activities. Their true depths went unknown by many, and those that were aware, shuddered in their beds at night at that knowledge.

Combined, Tyrone and Lucas could be held accountable for over twenty deaths, of Pokemon and human alike. Ruthless in their execution of orders, and sparing not a thought for anyone outside Team Rocket, they eradicated anyone in their way. Jenny knew none of this, occupied with her fracturing sanity. A corner of her mind wondered why Reece had not come for her yet.

_Meanwhile..._

Awakening slowly to an unfamiliar view, Reece rubbed his bleary, smoke-stung eyes. A shaft of light shone through the window above his chest, pooling it's pale glow on his face as he raised himself up on his elbows. He was laid on a chintz sofa in the break room of the Saffron Police branch HQ, which was unusually quiet. Though, with nearly every available officer searching for Team Rocket, it wasn't entirely surprising. With a sigh, Reece rolled off the sofa, ignoring the spiking pain in his knee. His supply of codeine was keeping the worst at bay, allowing him to move around rather than spend a few weeks in a hospital bed.

Slowly, he hobbled over to the door, weaving around various table and armchairs, and exited the break room. The radio clipped to his jumper crackled, and he paused in his limping to listen.

"Wilson, you awake yet? I need you in Surveillance." The voice of Station Chief Keller hurried him along. Like the break room, much of the station was silent. Only a few rooms were occupied, the barest of skeleton crews to keep the building running, and respond to other emergencies. As such, the only sounds Reece heard on his way to the Surveillance room were his boots thudding on the floor, and his ragged breathing. While he could not feel the pain, it certainly detracted from his endurance. By the time he had ascended a flight of stairs and traversed a corridor to reach the correct room, he was panting and gasping for breath. Warm sweat lit fires in his cold skin, he welcomed the change in temperature as he entered the veritable furnace that was the Surveillance room. Without any windows, and set up almost exactly like it's Vermillion counterpart, the constantly-running computers gave off an intense amount of heat. It was small wonder the operators mostly wore sleeveless shirts and shorts. Keller was stood in the center of the room, watching the monitors impassively with his arms folded across his chest. He was wearing a tailored suit that looked out of place among the more casually-dressed men in the room.

Reece stepped up next to Keller, looking inquisitively at the man. His face was lined with wrinkles, his hair the colour of stamped silver that shone lustrously in the glow of the monitors. Keller returned Reece's look, eyeing his threadbare jumped with distaste.

"Well, welcome. I'll get right down to it. Silph rang in late last night to tell us that their security system had been adjusted. They were unable to reverse the changes before Team Rocket invaded the building and took it over. They're still camped in there, with quite a few hostages." Keller grumbled, narrowing his eyes at a security camera panning over the Silph building. The windows reflected the light, preventing the camera from seeing through the glass. Keller sniffed and continued speaking in a gravelly voice. "I don't want you going in there, I'll tell you now. My boys reported spotting one of our most wanted when they arrived on the site. It was that Rocket Admin, Annabelle or some such. She took off towards Celadon City, apparently. No one's spotted her there yet."

Reece frowned. He vaguely remembered this Annabelle being described to him. Red-headed, on the short side, probably five foot seven...He rubbed his chin, watching the monitors. It was a start, he figured. It was on the way to Saffron that he had crashed the car.

_Team Rocket doesn't like you, Mr. Wilson..._ Recalling the words of the wounded Team Rocket member, Reece frowned. It couldn't have been an accident.

_They must have some sort of base or facility between Celadon and Saffron._ He reasoned, looking pensive. Keller glanced at him, spotting the expression on the detective's face.

"You look like you've got something. What's your take?" He asked, clearly curious. Reece considered for a second, then told him the events that had occurred to him for the past couple of days, leaving out his trek through the forest. No-one needed to know about that, it was unbelievable to him as it was.

"...And now I reckon they have Jenny hidden away somewhere near Route Seven. Maybe on the cliffside. A lot of smuggler's caves around there." Reece explained, while Keller nodded in agreement. He clapped Reece on the back, gesturing to the door.

"Well, you'd best go have a look around. I'll send some backup your way when I can spare it. Should be a car for you in the lockup, too. Good luck, Wilson." He shook Reece's hand, turning back to the monitors. Reece left the Surveillance room quietly, leaving Keller and his operators to keep watch. Another short trek through the station and a elevator ride put Reece in the lockup, which resembled an underground car park. The cars were sorted into sections based on how they'd been obtained. Stolen cars lined the wall opposite the exit ramp, while the squad cars took up the space nearest the elevator. Impounded cars were dotted about in between. Reece was only interested in one of the plain-clothes cars, a four door with a cream leather interior. He opened the door, slipping onto the leather with an appreciative sigh. His knee would likely be cramped by the time this journey was over.

He shut the door, flipped down the sun visor, and caught the keys as they fell. He stuffed the keys in the ignition, eager to be off. The car roared to life, rolling forwards like a stalking predator as Reece guided it up the ramp and out into the weak sunlight.

Within minutes he was weaving in and out of the afternoon traffic, startling a fair few drivers. Instead of taking the motorway, Reece turned off onto a back road. It was extremely unlikely the Rockets would set-up anywhere near the general public. Too much activity.

Sticking to his original plan, Reece headed for the cliffs that ran along south of Route Seven. The sheer amount of warren-like tunnels and caves that dotted that area made it perfect for a hidden facility. Unless, of course, someone came to the same conclusion. Reece turned off the back road onto a tiny dirt road that passed through a clump of old trees, the branches overshadowing the path like groping fingers. Reece pulled the car up about thirty metres from the edge of the cliff, and clambered out.

A chill wind whipped in from the sea, waves crashing into oblivion far below. Reece approached the edge, peering off. A trickle of dust crumbled from his perch, falling to the churning water below. Swallowing, Reece headed around the back of the car, opening the boot to reveal a number of pegs and a long coil of rope. As much as it made him shudder, he would have to abseil down the cliff to reach the highest cave entrance. The ledge was below where he had looked over, which was small comfort. If Jenny was in here, then getting her out would be hard.

_Especially if the rumours are true, and this Annabelle chick follows that bastard Lucas around. _Grinding his teeth in conflicted anticipation, Reece picked up the rope and pegs, stuffing the latter into his pocket save for one, which he stomped into the ground. The cliff itself was chalk, so it would be soft enough to dig the pegs in as anchors. He did not like the idea of the rope slipping out of his hands and plunging to a watery death, so he tied the end around his waist securely. He looped the rope around the peg, and tied it off. He tugged a few times to test the strength, then when he was satisfied, walked to the edge of the cliff. Unfortunately it didn't slope, so he had to lay down on his front, and do an awkward shuffled backwards until his feet could lay flat against the cliff. Then he lowered the rest of his body over the edge, and began walking down. The chalk crumbled often, making his heart pound like a trapped bird in his chest, until he regained his footing and carried on. After what seemed an eternity, Reece's descending left foot found nothing but air, causing him to lift it back up onto the chalk again. Looking down between his splayed legs, he noticed the top of the cave mouth, and the ledge some five feet below. Letting his legs hang free, he slid down the rope as a fireman would, landing gently with a _scrunch_ on the loose ground of the ledge. Years of erosion and chalk flakes had built up, giving the ledge a curiously lumpy appearance. The opening to the cave was dark and foreboding, making Reece glad he had thought to stuff a torch in his pocket before leaving the station.

He took the tube out of his pocket, pressing the on switch. The cave mouth was instantly illuminated to show a dead end.

"...Well, crap." Reece sighed, looking up at the rope dangling above him. He could barely reach it from where he was, and his knee was beginning to flood his leg with pain. He scanned the cliff face, looking for any other opening, and spotted one off to his left. This one had no ledge, just a hole to nothingness. It was his best shot.

Unfortunately, the only way across was for Reece to haul himself back up on the rope and swing across. Which he did, nearly falling a hundred feet or more to the water below, when his fingers slipped on the edge of the hole in the cliff face. His scrabbling hands managed to find purchase just before he fell, and he pulled himself up as quickly as possible, rolling onto his back and gasping for breath. The torch was jutting into his leg where it lay in his pocket, so he pushed himself to his feet, groaning. His fingers found the switch, and this cave was thrown into sharp relief by the torchlight.

Stalactites jutted from the ceiling like the teeth of a giant Dragonite, with ridges flowing in between like fossilized waves. Creeping forwards into the pitch-black tunnel at the rear of the cave, Reece trekked underground. The tunnel slanted downwards slightly, leading him deep into the earth until he came to a old-looking metal door. Rust coated in ugly brown, looking like a disease upon the metal. Reece reached for the handle with trembling fingers, suddenly nervous about what lay on the other side.

"Well, I've come this far." He muttered under his breath, then tugged the door. The door hit the frame and stayed still, until Reece looked more closely at the handle. Embossed into the plate around it was the word "Push". Flushing, Reece did as the word instructed, the door opening this time onto a brightly-lit hallway lined with pipes. The hallway looked as old as the door, but it certainly looked like the place someone might hide, so he tip-toed inside, shutting the door as gently as possible. Warmth flooded his body as he made his way along the hallway. Up ahead, a T-junction gave him a choice to make. Briefly, he wondered just how far into the cliff this place went, before taking the left path. It almost immediately turned right, and back on itself like the curves of as snake, leading up to a second door.

Pushing through, Reece found himself in a large room, not unlike a mess hall or a canteen, thought dilapidated and aged. The tables were dirty and faded from their original turquoise colour, while the plastic chairs lay snapped or cracked at crazy angles. A counter embedded in the wall was cut off by a shutter that prevented Reece from seeing into the kitchen, if there was one behind the old metal.

There was little of interest in the room, so he headed on, exiting through yet another door, this one made of wood. It looked like it had been fitted recently, and the marks on the surrounding walls hadn't been covered up at all. Going through, Reece found himself in a short hallway that curved to the left. He heard a scream from up ahead, and was about to hurry around the bend, when he heard a hiss. The shadow of some creature was thrown up onto the wall ahead of him. It bared fangs that dripped with saliva or some other liquid, and a forked tongue darted out rapidly.

Reece swallowed as quietly as he could, backing out of the still-open door to the mess hall. The creature around the corner began to approach the bend, and Reece dove under one of the faded tables as it emerged into the mess hall. Purple scales rippled as it slithered along, hood extended menacingly. An Arbok, Reece realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Footsteps echoed, and the Pokemon was followed by a man and a woman. From his hiding place, Reece couldn't see their faces, but a woman's voice told him all he needed to know.

"Lucas, you're going to end up killing her if you're not careful!" She chastised her male companion, who sighed theatrically.

"You leave that to me, Annabelle. I take good care of my guests..." He said softly, then left the room through the other doorway. After a moment's indecision, the woman followed, leaving Reece alone in the mess hall. The door to the hallway where he heard the scream was open, as if beckoning him to go further.

_That scream must have been Jenny...she must still be alive._ Reece crawled out from under the table, and sneaked through the doorway. He flattened himself against the wall when he reached the corner, ignoring the rising pain in his knee, and peered around it.

There was an open door on the east wall, and a closed one at the far end of the hallway. From the open door, Reece could hear a masculine voice singing softly. He crept along, quiet as a Rattata, and glanced inside.

A man was leant back in a chair, with his booted feet propped on the desk he sat at. He sported raven-hair and a bandolier, which was festooned with Pokeballs. It was Tyrone. Even one of those Pokemon would likely be too much for Reece to handle, even at the best of times. So he sneaked inside, stealthily picking up a wooden chair that lay on it's side. Approaching the Team Rocket Admin, Reece swung the chair like a cricket bat, the wooden backrest connecting with his temples. With a grunt, Tyrone crashed to the floor and lay still. It was a shame he was only unconscious, but Reece knew that would have to do. On the desk lay a bit of paper, upon which neat handwriting spelled out orders. Without looking at it, Reece stuffed the paper into his pocket.

He hurried out of the room, shoving the final door open to see blackness, and in the light spilling in behind him, Jenny. She was lolling in her chair, seemingly unconscious, but her eyes were open. Reece felt rage prickle along his spine as he took her by the shoulders, shaking her gently. She did little more than flop forwards, so Reece picked her up, laying her across his shoulders. It was time to escape, though Reece had no idea how. There was no way back to the ledge on the cliff, and he knew he couldn't climb up with Jenny anyway. The Rockets must have had another way out, and there was that other path he had ignored. He retraced his steps to the T-junction near his cliffside entry, and took the other path this time. Rooms lined each side of a long corridor that forked after about twenty metres. Taking fleeting looks into each of the rooms as they passed, Reece saw bunk bed after bunk bed. This was most likely where the long-gone occupants of this place had slept.

Suddenly, he heard voices echo, and dodged inside the nearest room as Lucas and Annabelle entered the hallway from the left-hand fork, with the Arbok leading. Reece huddled against the wall as best he could while carrying Jenny, as the footsteps approached.

Jenny took this rather untimely opportunity to mumble dazedly. The Arbok hissed, halting in it's tracks. It flared it's hood and pointed it's ugly, square snout at the room Reece and Jenny were in. Lucas and Annabelle both stopped as well, exchanging glances. Reece clamped his hand over Jenny's mouth, hardly daring to breath himself.

After a tense few seconds, the Arbok relaxed, and began slithering away again, with Lucas and Annabelle in tow. Reece exhaled in relief, poking his head out of the doorframe to watch their retreating backs.

Shaking like a leaf, Reece hurried in the opposite direction, heading down the right hand fork. It led the escapees through a series of turns, coming out on a dark ladder shaft. Grunting exasperatedly, Reece adjusted Jenny so she was hanging over one shoulder instead of both, and began to climb.

It was tough work, especially as his knee shrieked at him to stop. It spasmed a couple of times, leaving him to clutch at the ladder with his remaining hand and foot until he felt steady enough to carry on.

Eventually, they reached the top, and Reece pushed open the metal hatch that stood between him and freedom. The hatch opened up into the middle of a thicket of tightly-wrapped bushes. He hoisted Jenny out and lifted himself out after her, turning to slam the hatch back into place. The top side of it was covered in grass and leaves from the bushes around them. It was effective camouflage, Reece would likely never find it again, which suited him fine. He turned to lift Jenny onto his shoulders again, grumbling at her weight. Luckily she wasn't awake to hear him. He pushed through the thicket of bushes, stumbling and limping towards the sound of waves churning.

Reece nearly walked straight over the edge, catching himself just in time. The car was standing proudly to his left, gleaming as the sun spilled over it. Heaving a sigh, Reece made his way over to it, laying Jenny in the back seat and clipping in her seatbelt. Flopping into the driver's seat, he did the same, then started the engine, and reversed up the dirt path.

He'd done it, he thought, looking fondly at the sleeping figure sprawled in the rear seat as they rumbled along, back to Saffron City.


	16. Chapter Fifteen P1: Street Fighters

Author's Notes: Just FYI, Ash was never born, as far as my story's continuity goes.

So Black Ops is pretty damn sweet! 'Course, in typical Treyarch style, the campaign is annoying about the time you get to the first 'Nam mission. There's this hill you gotta get to the bottom of, and it's freaking impossible on Veteran. Still trying, though!

Enjoy the chapter for today, and I won't feel so guilty about spending so much time playing it, heh.

Oh, and this chapter is being split into two, because I want to do the coming conflict justice.

**Chapter Fifteen, Part One: Street Fighters**

_Yesterday._

Reece grumbled sleepily, as the thin veneer of the dream world snapped and faded to be replaced by the harsh glare of reality. Or that might have been the sun that shone cheerily into his eyes as they snapped open. He cursed gruffly, his voice hoarse, and pushed himself upright, ignoring the good-natured jeers from the pair of men standing by the pool table. He was back in the break room of Saffron City, having taken Jenny to the hospital the previous night. It was against his better judgement, considering his recent stay in the Celadon counterpart, but Roscoe had overridden him, spouting phrases like "imperative for her recovery", and "unavoidable". Privately, Reece just thought Roscoe wanted Jenny back to work as soon as possible.

Reece felt around in his pocket for the codeine bottle, fingers closing around the translucent orange plastic. Groggily, he popped the cap and shook two of the pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry with a grimace. He replaced the cap and kneaded his face with his free hand. He felt like someone had been along and sandpapered down his knee and forehead. Not to mention the orchestra of pain that played in his head. The migraine seemed happy to stay, so Reece just ignored it as best he could.

He got up from the sofa, ignoring another catcall from the pool players, and left the break room, shutting the door behind him a little more forcefully than was necessary. The pool playing officers just shrugged at each other and resumed their game.

Reece stomped along the station's corridors, the migraine casting a dark mood over him like a little black raincloud. He made his way into the main foyer, and down the oaken staircase to join a group of a score of men and women. They were all there for the same reason he was; Take back the Silph building from Team Rocket.

Every one of the gathered people brandished Pokeballs at their waists in varying numbers. Reece had only two, which had been transferred over from the Pokemon Center in Vermillion City. He was glad to have his Pokemon back with them, and he closed his hands over the two red and white spheres as he milled in with the other officers. It wasn't long before Keller appeared at the top of the staircase. Halfway down, he addressed them while buckling a old-looking leather belt around himself, clipping Pokeballs into the fasteners set into the leather.

"Listen up, everyone. You should all know the objective by now. The bulk of the force will go in through the front entrance, but only after a four-man team goes in and secures the ground floor." He called, his voice echoing around the foyer. The crowd below him were listening attentively. It was obvious to Reece that Keller was held in high regard here, something Reece envied, a little.

"Clayton, Woodrow, Smith, and Wilson. You'll go in first. After you secure the ground floor, head up to the CEO Suite on the eleventh floor." Keller joined them on the foyer floor as he talked, making his way through the crowd that parted to let him through. At his order, they followed him outside where three flatbed trucks waited, painted navy blue, with engines growling. The mass of officers split into three fragments and piled into the trucks. Almost in unison, the vehicles pulled away and began their trek through the city streets to reach the Silph Co. Building.

Inside the vehicles, each of the twenty-one policemen and women prepared in their own ways. A couple polished the Pokeballs containing their partners, some sang or hummed, or even whistled snatches of song, and still others made jokes or conversation to lighten the mood. Only a few remained silent, those being the three other men in Reece's team.

The preparations were cut short, however, by the advent of a lightning bolt striking the lead truck. The afflicted vehicle careened off course as sparks crackled and jumped along it's length, before slewing sideways into a lamppost that bent under the formidable impact. Reece, riding in the rear truck, slid into the bloke named Clayton as the driver slammed on the brakes. Clayton shoved Reece away, watching some of the other occupants hop bravely out of the vehicle. Those who remained inside began gabbling, until their radios squawked, the message amplified and echoed through twenty receivers.

"It's an ambush! The Rockets were waiting for us!" Reece glanced at the other officers in the truck compartment, then stood up and began wading through the sea of legs that obstructed him. From outside, he could hear yells from humans and the cries of Pokemon, along with booming explosions, the roaring of flames and the rush of water. Reece lowered himself out of the rear of the truck slowly, trying to avoid aggravating his knee, until the truck rocked backwards from some collision and he was thrown onto the tarmac in an oddly elegant faceplant.

He grunted, pushing himself up and looking over his shoulder. His eyes saw Pokemon of all kinds battling, while their masters shouted commands and words of encouragement, and in some cases began fistfights. Getting to his feet, Reece reached for his Pokeballs, then stopped as the rest of the officers poured out of the truck, releasing their own Pokemon as they entered the fray. He noted a fair variety, adding to the mis-match of species already embroiled in the combat.

A figure detatched itself from the fighting, accompanied by a Jolteon shortly afterwards. Reece headed towards it when he recognized the person as Keller, who skidded to a halt next to him, pointing up the street.

"Keep heading for the Silph building, I've already sent the other three ahead. We'll have to fight here, there's too many to brush past." Keller turned back to run towards the melee, then stopped, and fixed Reece with a stern look. "And don't go higher than the ground floor until you hear from me!" He dashed off again, his Jolteon overtaking him and leaping at a low-flying Pidgeotto. He was shortly obscured by a smoke cloud. Reece gritted his teeth and took off as fast as he could, his knee sending electric messages to his brain, screaming at him to slow down and stop. He could do neither, and kept going at full tilt, dodging past a Rocket grunt whose body was aflame.

He could see the Silph building even from three streets away. It towered tall and proud over the skyline of the other buildings in Saffron City. It was probably the only structure that had eleven floors out of the rest of Saffron's skyscrapers.

Eventually, he rounded the corner of Silph Street, named after the building, obviously. A pair of Rocket members lay sprawled near the stairs that lead up to a pair of large glass doors that were smashed, their jagged edges glittering as the sun turned it's glare on them. Reece darted round to the side of the building, heading for the employee entrance as he had been told. He recalled most of the building's floorplan thanks to the various blueprints Keller had provided in the briefing the night before.

The alleyway running along the side of the skyscraped was charred in places, and spattered with what looked suspiciously like blood. Reece halted, heart hammering in his chest and a stitch nagging at his aching ribs. His migraine pounded away like a team of construction workers inside his head, as he unclipped one of the Pokeballs from his belt and hit the button in the middle. The sphere expanded suddenly, and he tossed it gently onto the ground, whispering a command.

"Come out, Swellow." The Pokeball cracked in half in a flash of red light, and a form flickered into being, spreading deep blue wings. Crimson plumage adorned the bird Pokemon's chest and the tips of it's forked tail. It cawed proudly, until Reece shushed it hurriedly. It fluttered up onto his shoulder, making the detective wince as black talons dug into his soft skin.

"Stay quiet, okay?" He asked, opening the door marked in white lettering. The soft whirr of the security camera's motors filled his ears as the door swung open silently. The bulb lighting up the short stairway was shattered, glass littering the stairs. It crunched like cereal under his boots as he sneaked up the metal stairs as quietly as he could. The door to the lobby was open, very much so. It was blown entirely off it's hinges, laying at a crooked angle against the wall of the stairs. A burn mark blackened the rectangular metal, and Reece wondered if it was a Rocket pokemon that had done the burning, or one of his comrade's.

He approached the voidlike doorframe, peering into the lobby cautiously. Swellow did the same, fluttering his wings slowly, as if trying to waft away the tension that hung in the air. A black jump-suited body lay in the hallway, limbs akimbo. A expression of fear was etched on his face. Reece was morbidly transfixed, until a Growlithe hopped over the reception desk, growling at him. A trio of faces poked up after it, followed by a purple, almost transparent shape, with malevolent eyes and a wide, fang-filled grin. The Haunter floated over to hover next to the Growlithe, until two separate voices chastised the Pokemon.

"Carbon, stand down!"

"Napalm, chill." The three men stood, revealing themselves to be Clayton, Smith, and Woodrow. The Growlithe, Napalm trotted over to Woodrow, while Carbon the Haunter swirled around Clayton, it's expressions changing into one of playfulness. Smith seemed not to be accompanied by Pokemon, until the wall rippled like waves, and a Staryu faded into Reece's vision.

Reece approached the trio, Swellow cawing softly in greeting. Reece looked at them appraisingly, then grinned.

"Nice job –" He said, gesturing to the Rocket laying on the lobby floor. "But you forgot to take out the garbage." Reece chuckled as Smith cracked a smile. Clayton and Woodrow just seemed concerned and tense, and Woodrow piped up next.

"Did you see the Chief?" He asked, hands in his pockets. Reece nodded, and related Keller's words. None of the three looked too happy with being told to stay put, but they assumed their hiding places once again, most likely to ambush any Rocket that might take a trip downstairs. Reece joined them behind the counter, kneeling on his good leg. Swellow hopped down to the ground next to him, pecking at a spider that ran along the floor.

A few minutes passed, and a voice filtered through the radios clipped to each of their chests.

"Clayton, come in." It was Keller, and he didn't sound pleased.

"Roger, what's up?" Clayton replied, his voice slightly deeper than the others'.

"We've mopped up Team Rocket here, but there's a lot of injuries. You'll only have a handful of reinforcements at best." Keller relayed, his voice tinged with impotent rage and impatience. The four men exchanged glances, making a silent agreement, and Clayton hit the send button again.

"Forget it, Chief. If you managed to take out all those Rockets, we should be able to handle anything else in here." Clayton radioed, then turned it off with a strange expression. Reece sympathized. He felt as edgy and nervous about storming the building alone, especially if there were hostages.

_Add that to the list of things we didn't find out..._ Reece grumbled to himself, then followed Woodrow as he stood up, tugging at his uniform shirt.

"I'll lead. We'll go floor by floor." Smith and Clayton nodded their agreement. Reece shrugged, gesturing towards the stairwell to the left of the reception desk. The elevator would likely be locked, if the blueprints were anything to go by. Together, accompanied by their Pokemon, they made their way up the stairs, light on their feet and attempting to stay silent.

Emerging onto the first floor, they were spotted by a patrolling grunt, who yelled out and reached for a pouch at his waist that bulged with Pokeballs. His fingers didn't even brush the pouch 's material before the Haunter, Carbon, locked eyes with him. A second or two passed while the Rocket froze staring at the Haunter, before his slumped over backwards, his face contorting into an expression of horror. The four men approached him slowly, Smith nudging him with the point of his shoe. The man didn't respond, just stared slackly at the floor.

"Dream Eater...you're scary, man." Smith shuddered, while Clayton and his Haunter shrugged in unison. Woodrow and Reece moved over to the doorway that the grunt had been walking past. Woodrow wrapped his hand around the handle, tugging it. It didn't budge, nor did it when he pushed. It was locked tight, but they had no time to do anything other than whip round in shock as a gentle clapping reached their ears.

Before them, in front of a steel shutter, stood a red-headed woman. Smith, Clayton, and Woodrow looked confused and stunned, while Reece recognized her voice from the hidden hideout when she spoke.

"I saw your fighting downstairs. Pretty good. I wonder what a cute little girlie like me could hope to do against you..." Annabelle giggled innocently, then glared at them. She tossed a Pokeball in their direction, releasing a round, green-plumed bird with a yellow beak. A Natu. Clayton frowned, stepping forwards.

"If it's a battle you want, let's go." He muttered, waving the others towards the staircase. Annabelle giggled again, looking oddly pleased. She didn't attempt to stop the remaining three from heading up the staircase. Reece gave one last glance at Clayton, as he ordered Carbon forwards. Even with the type advantage, Reece was worried. One doesn't become and Admin by being weak.

He hurried up the stairs after the other two, boots ringing out a ominous melody against the steel.


	17. Chapter Fifteen P2: Hypnosis and Hunger

Author's Notes: Well, I'm back, and so is OoP! I decided to extend this arc just a little bit 'cause of an idea I had while I've been with my grandparents, so enjoy getting more to read! And in the words of lolcat: I can haz review?

**Chapter Fifteen P2: Hypnotism and Hunger**

Clayton ignored the sound of his comrade's retreating footsteps, taking a quick glance at his surroundings. They were in a corridor lined with doors, with walls that looked fairly thin. Thin enough for a Ghost-type to slip through...Clayton blinked as his Haunter tapped him on the shoulder, it's face covered with a questioning expression. Gesturing at the Natu, he called out the first move, much to Annabelle's delight.

"Carbon, use Hypnosis!" He called, stepping back a couple of paces. If he could lead this Rocket away from the staircase, he'd be able to delay her for longer. A look past Annabelle showed a line of glass windows, and a cleaner's platform suspended outside. The beginnings of a plan formed in Clayton's mind, but his thoughts were pushed aside as he focused on the battle.

Carbon had shut his eyes momentarily, then opened them to their full extent. The white orbs were tinged with a faint yellow colour, and the Natu blinked dazedly a few times, cawing softly as it fought the mind-numbing gaze of the Haunter. Annabelle also seemed fairly dizzy, she had made the mistake of looking at Carbon's eyes as well. Clayton allowed a incredulous smirk to slide onto his face.

_Is this chick even a Admin?_ He wondered. Suddenly there was odd pressure on Clayton's body, and he was thrown onto his back, landing heavily on the wood flooring. He cracked his head, vision swimming as he tried to push himself up. Carbon was draped across his chest, looking stunned. Even as Clayton watched, his eyes fluttered and he seemed to recover, and float sheepishly into the air. Clayton got to his feet, glaring at Annabelle, who was jumping for joy and squealing at her Natu. She noticed Clayton's gaze and threw her hair back with a satisfied smile.

"Psychic moves pack a punch, right?" She giggled, holding a hand in front of her mouth. Then her face hardened and she pointed her index fingers at the Haunter floating next to Clayton. Without a sound, the Natu began to vibrate slightly, and Clayton felt that same pressure, and dived aside. Carbon zipped the other way, passing halfway through the wall before extracting himself and flexing his purple hands menacingly. He looked at Clayton for confirmation, and the same thought crossed their minds. Clayton said the command quietly, trying to prevent Annabelle from over-hearing.

Carbon shot towards the Natu, his hands leaving a trail of purple vapour that gradually caught up, turning blacker as he drew close the Natu. The psychic bird began to vibrate again, resembling an feathery tuning fork, until Carbon dealt it a powerful swipe from his left hand, raking his shadow-coated claws across the Natu's face. It screeched and flapped it's wings, rolling over backwards as it tried to take flight and avoid the second swipe of the Haunter's Shadow Claw. Carbon lifted a hand in front of his face, grinning cruelly as it faded from view.

Annabelle was fuming, glaring at Clayton, who stood opposite her with his arms folded. Carbon reappeared next to him, and they both watched the Natu right itself. Clayton shrugged.

"Ghost moves pack a punch, right?" He mocked, while Carbon waggled his tongue at the red-head, who stamped and threw a Pokeball savagely at the struggling Natu. She re-attatched it to her belt, unclipping another of the black-and-white balls, tossing it negligently in the air. She recomposed herself as red lasers formed the outline of a Pokemon almost as tall as Clayton. It had short yellow skin, and a white ruff-like mane around it's neck. Two dull, sleepy eyes peered at Clayton distastefully as it rubbed a silver disc tied to a piece of string against the white fur. Huffing on the disc and giving it a final brisk rub, it let the pendulum fall, holding the string in it's left hand and focusing on Carbon. It's eyes lit up, losing their previously tired look. The long nose that protruded from the Hypno's face bobbed up and down as it sniffed, although Clayton couldn't smell anything himself.

With slow, gentle movements of it's wrist, the Hypno began to rock the pendulum back and forth on the string. Clayton inhaled sharply, realizing the Pokemon's intent.

"Carbon, close your eyes!" He shouted, while his own were drawn to the back-and-forward movement of the little silver disc. The metal glittered as the light that shone on the four beings from the ceiling stuck it. Clayton felt his limbs grow heavy, as if someone had attatched two-ton weights to them. He staggered, vision dimming and blurring as he felt a great urge to sleep. His eyes drooped slowly, the officer swaying slightly in time to the disc's path, and his eyes closed.

Instantly, Clayton awoke. He was standing on a beach. Gritty white sand crunched under his shifting feet as he looked all around himself. To his front was a long-stretching expanse of water that only left his view when it reached the horizon. To his left and right was nothing but more sand and sea, continuing far out of sight. Behind him, was a small hut. It squatted like a mushroom on the sand, made of rotten wood. The cracks that Clayton could barely discern were consumed by dark green moss that looked like a cancer on the wood.

The very sight of the hut repulsed Clayton, but he was also strangely attracted to it. Some appeal stilled his attempts to run away along the never-ending sand. His legs moved of their own accord, dragging his protesting brain closer to the hut. The door swung open to admit him entry, but all was darkness inside, he could make out nothing save a candle, that flickered as if an unseen person breathed lightly upon the weak flame. His body entered the hut, and the door creaked as it shut behind him. The darkness was smothering, as was the rancid odour of decay and disrepair that clogged the air and choked Clayton's throat. The candle flared, growing stronger as he approached. Fear was washed away to be replaced by a sense of familiarity. He felt safe, as though he had come home after a long journey.

He extended a hand to better feel the heat of the candle, but his hand was stopped by an invisible force. Pressure mounted on his shoulder, and he heard a low snuffling. A voice resounded in the dark, deep and hungering

_Give me...your soul._ The pressure on his shoulder grew, until Clayton felt his arm would surely snap under the fell influence that locked it in place. He stumbled forward again, the candle dimming now, almost extinguished. Soon it would fade and he would follow...

The candle flame grew once more, spilling over the white waxen flesh of the wick and beginning to lick at the table. It crackled and flickered as it consumed the table it had sat upon, leaving a charred ruin in it's wake. Clayton's arm extended again, the presence in his mind yearning, striving, needing to touch the raging inferno. It shied away, growing once more and swallowing up the walls of the hut. The darkness was eliminated in the face of the orange-red fire. The roof began to fall inwards as the walls crumbled. The pressure on him began to lift, and suddenly the ground shifted, opening up like a gargantuan throat. Clayton fell once more into the blackness.

For how long he fell, he could not tell, but as he went, he began to sweat, droplets of salty liquid secreting from his every pore and coating his skin in a film of damp. A light appeared below him, and he yelled out as he fell towards a deep ravine, the bottom of which he could see ended in jagged boulders and chipped rocks. Though it was futile, Clayton stretched out his arms, trying to reach for the side of the ravine as it shot past. Bracing himself for the inevitable impact as his long scream tore at his throat, Clayton squeezed his eyes shut.

He did not see the light envelop him, nor the rocks fade as he passed harmlessly through them. He did, however, feel the tiredness in his bones wash away like driftwood on a gentle wave. He felt rejuvenated, and opened his eyes.

The bright light of the corridor's bulbs welcomed him back to the waking world, and he groggily pushed himself up from where he was laying on the wooden flooring. He rubbed at his eyes as he got up, fighting back a yawn, only to hear a enraged screech in a distinctly feminine tone. He whirled round to see Carbon pulling on Annabelle's red hair while the Hypno lay, twitching like a speared Magikarp, on the ground. It's eyes were open and blank, devoid of everything. Clayton shivered and glared at Annabelle.

_It's a good thing Carbon closed his eyes. Damn Psychics._ Clayton growled in his head, and whistled at Carbon, who uttered a haunting, almost melodic chuckle as he released Annabelle. Clayton strode up to her, and she lashed out at him with a banshee-esque shriek, tears of pain and anger welling her eyes. He caught her wrist easily and gave her an open-handed slap that left her sagging in his grasp. Carbon found this funny and he let loose another of his dark chuckles, watching Clayton clasp a pair of handcuffs on the Rocket. As he looked up at his Haunter companion, Clayton heard a shattering sound, and his head shot up fast enough to send molten pain running down the back of his skull like egg yolk made of lava. The window between the building interior and the cleaner's platform had been smashed, and a red-headed girl was perched cheerfully on the metal rectangle suspended in space. In her hand she held a chunky remote, and gave a rippling wave with her fingers at Clayton as she hit one of the buttons and the platform began to descend.

The police officer ran to the window, pushing protruding fragments of glass aside, and leaned out, watching the Rocket Admin lower herself to the ground. He cursed, then turned on his heel and dashed for the stairway, Carbon merely dropping through the stairs as they went.

_Sorry, fellas. I gotta catch this chick, you'll have to handle it from here. _He thought as he hurtled down the metal stairs.


	18. Chapter Sixteen: Coils and Chases

Author's Notes: Sorry about missing yesterday's chapter! I actually slept through the whole day. On the upside, I woke up feeling very enthusiastic! Enjoy today's chapter, though you might be slightly shocked... ;3

**Chapter Sixteen: Coils and Chases**

Reece stopped for the fourth time, panting heavily as he clutched the handrail for dear life. The clanging footsteps of his fellows continued as he slid sideways and flopped onto the stairs, sitting with his legs extended. His chest was heaving, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. Not unfit, Reece was forced to stop so often to prevent his knee from giving way. The repetitive bending as he climbed the stairway aggravated his shattered kneecap. He was beginning to wish he'd taken the doctor's advice and taken the required time off. Though, he knew he couldn't let himself do that.

Although he had given benevolent reasons for his premature return to active duty, Reece was burning up with the fever of revenge. With his strong sense of justice, it abhorred him to consider Lucas and Tyrone getting away with everything they had done. He had hidden the insidious tendrils of retribution from Keller and Roscoe, faking his usual cheerful veneer, wearing his own nature like a mask. However, he let that mask crack and fall away, and even as he sat massaging his kneecap, he was furious at himself for getting injured. Every second he sat still gave Smith and Woodrow more time to take on Lucas and Tyrone. There was no doubt in the detective's mind that the pair he was seeking were in the building. Having seen Annabelle on the scene, he had instantly realized.

Groaning aloud as he got back to his feet, he fervently willed his knee to stop paining him as he set off again. The sounds of his competition's feet had faded now, and the logical corner of his mind, so savagely pushed aside, returned to the forefront with worry in hand. Not quite the gift Reece wanted, but there it was. They could not have climbed so high in the couple of minutes Reece had allowed himself. Unable to hurry any faster, reduced to a slow ascent, he tried to ignore the growing anxiety in his gut.

The sound of his boots on the metal was suddenly joined by another sound. Or, to be exact, two sounds. One was a indistinct voice, and the second was a odd sound, like a butcher chopping into a piece of meat. Reece's head snapped up, and he saw someone slip over the railing, far above. The body, barely able to fit into the tight space, thudded in a wince-inducing way as it tumbled down, an voice screaming denial. Something like a rope retracted over the rail as the person fell, past Reece and towards the bottom of the stairwell, some six floors down. The yell ended abruptly, accompanied by an echoing crunch that chilled Reece's blood, as aflame with anger as it was. He couldn't make out who had fallen. He felt sick as he came to realize that he did not think of his fellow officers' safety. In the silence that followed, Reece only hoped that Lucas or Tyrone had not been the impromptu skydiver.

He continued on his way up, dread growing like a cancerous tumour in his heart, the eerie quiet settling on him like a weighted shroud. Finally, he reached the floor that the body had fallen from, and skidded on something. His knee ground in it's socket and he fell heavily onto his forearms. Warm wetness coated his jumper sleeves, soaking into his arm. Blinking, he twisted his left arm around to see what was dampening him.

A crimson liquid dribbled from his arm, staining the woollen jumper. Swallowing, Reece struggled to his feet, using the handrail for support. His heart began to hammer again, beating painfully against his ribcage like a frantic bird. His mouth was dry, dry, dry like an arid desert devoid of life. He stumbled away from the blood, feeling a second sweat droplet slide down his pallid skin. The toe of his boot struck something that rolled away. Looking down, Reece spotted a red-and-white sphere. It was splattered with blood that blended morbidly with the top of the Pokeball. There was a small tag that was mostly obscured with liquid, and when Reece wiped it off, a small "S" was visible. Reece tucked the ball into his pocket and exhaled shakily. Pain was his only companion as he stepped onto the ninth floor, which appeared to be of the same layout as the first floor. Shutters enclosed every doorway in a second steel skin. Scorch marks lined the wall, marring the otherwise attractive blue paint. What appeared to be claw marks were etched into the wall, and when Reece inspected them closely, tracing them with his fingers, he could feel small collections of blood. Looking around himself cautiously, he tried to push through the fear-fueled fog that had begun to grip his mind.

_Someone fought here. The burn marks are like the ones in the lobby, so Woodrow's Growlithe might have made them. But these claw scorings...they're far too big for a Growlithe. _Reece rubbed his knee, looking thoughtful. _It must have been one of their Pokemon._ He realized, his face darkening, eyebrows furrowing. There was a sudden beep, and the shutter to Reece's left opened, retracting into the ceiling above the doorframe rapidly. The door swung open, and a head peeked out.

It was Woodrow, he relaxed visibly when he saw Reece, beckoning to him without a sound. Reece blinked, and moved past Woodrow into the smallish office that lay behind the door. Cubicles filled most of the floor space, and what little remained held only a table with a coffee machine. Woodrow shut the door gingerly, and punched a button in a little red frame next to the door. Reece heard the shutter close again, sealing them in. He looked askance at Woodrow, he shoved past him, stepping into a cubicle. Upon the tiny plastic-coated desk lay a small body. Black striped streaked the orange fur of Woodrow's Growlithe, joined by a trio of cuts that seeped blood like a cracked dam seeps water. Woodrow patted the flanks of the Growlithe that lay, almost seeming not to breathe as Reece leaned into the cubicle. Woodrow glanced at him, then stroked his Growlithe sadly with blood-stained hands.

"Smith's gone. He fell over the railing." Woodrow whispered, his voice hoarse. Reece nodded, keeping the silence as Woodrow sighed gently. It sounded like heartbreak as the officer rubbed at his eyes. They were ringed a raw-looking red, and his cheeks were flushed. The hand that wasn't stroking the Growlithe were shaking terribly, as though Woodrow had been struck with arthritis. Reece reached out, about to lay a hand on his shoulder, then withdrew it. Instead, he leant against the cubicle wall and spoke up.

"What happened? I took a rest, and when I carried on, Smith fell past me." Reece wondered whether the blood on the stairs was Smith's, or from some other source. In his heart, Reece could guess who was responsible, but he tried to hold back the onrush of anger until it was verified. He didn't have long to wait, as Woodrow spoke again in that broken, croaking way.

"Th-the guy with the Arbok. I was b-battling the bandolier dude with...with the Scizor. The Arbok bit Smith, and he fell over the railing...Didn't even have a chance to let out his Staryu." Woodrow scrubbed at his eyes again, smearing blood onto his cheek. Reece looked away, feeling sick as he recalled his callousness on the stairwell. But there was no time to lose, and he tapped Woodrow on the shoulder once to get his attention.

"Where did they go? I need to find them." Reece muttered, staring at Woodrow, who looked surprised and scared.

"Y-you can't go after them! They'll...they'll kill you too! You're n-nuts!" He stammered, recoiling. Reece snorted, shaking his head.

"Look, just tell me, or I'll find them myself." Reece cut off Woodrow's stammering and folded his arms imposingly. Woodrow stared at him for a second, then looked at his Growlithe. 

"I...don't know. The Scizor..it messed Napalm up...he's-" Woodrow sniffed, patting his Pokemon's limp form again, before continuing. "I ducked in here when the shutter opened and locked myself in. They tried to get in for a bit, then left. They...they might still be around." Woodrow glanced fearfully at the door, trembling slightly.

_Add that to the list..._ Reece though angrily, walking over to the button that released the shutter hatch.

"Woodrow. You stay here if you want. I'm going to find them, and make them pay. It's about time they stopped evading justice." Reece stabbed the button with a finger, ignoring Woodrow's protests, and opened the oaken door.

He stepped out, closing the door behind him. The shutter slid closed again, and all was silent. He was alone. The thought sent a shock of fear down his spine, raising goosebumps on his skin. Paranoia began to settle quite comfortably into his brain as he set about exploring the rest of the ninth floor. It seemed to be more for storage, as evidenced by the large packing crates everywhere, any of which lay askew from their neat, ordered piles. Reece was forced, more than once, to weave awkwardly between them as he wandered around. All the doors had shutters over them, which rattled like tinny gunfire when Reece tried to shift them.

Eventually, satisfied that he had searched the whole floorspace, Reece made his way back to the lift, only to spot a hole in the wall of a room he had already passed. He crept up to the hole warily, peering in without pushing his head through. As it turned out, that saved his life, for a mouth full of discoloured teeth slammed shut a few inches from his face. The ugly purple snub-nose of an Arbok filled his view, and beady, malevolent eyes stared back at his own. He felt lethargy grip him like wet clothing as the Arbok fastened it's mouth around his arm and dragged him through the hole. It dropped him on the carpeted floor of the room, which appeared to be some kind of server farm. Groggily, Reece yawned as he reclined on the carpet, until he spotted the Arbok's head drift over his own. His eyes flew open, all traces of tiredness gone as he rolled over and over till he hit the wall, getting to his feet as quickly as he could. He sucked in air in a panic as he watched the Arbok closely, which regarded him lazily, like a...well, like a snake watching a mouse.

A minute or so passed, with both parties of the standoff remaining as still as statues, albeit breathing ones. Reece blinked as often as he dared, his eyes aching and stinging after a short time staring at the Arbok. He tried to avoid looking it in the eyes, for it seemed to be able to hypnotize with it's gaze. Every time he accidentally locked eyes with it, he felt dizzy and weak. His knee began to tremble as he stood, half-leaning against the wall. Suddenly, the Arbok leapt forward, jaws springing wide. Reece yelled out and hurled himself to the side, squashing his face against the carpet and grunting. His knee knocked against the floor, bringing a tear of pain to Reece's eyes as he groaned, the carpet muffling his curses. He scrambled to his feet, with the Arbok nowhere to be seen. Dust clogged the air, and chunks of plaster lay scattered on the carpet, coating the blue with a fine layer of white particles. There was a second hole in the wall now, though more jagged. A quiet, receding hiss was all that remained of the purple creature. Reece tried to see out of the hole without approaching it, but it was like trying to peer through a keyhole. He could see nothing, just a bank of windows opposite him.

Deciding to put as much distance between himself and the Arbok, Reece clambered slowly out of the first hole, dragging his leg behind him. It was alive with pain, twinging at the barest movements. Reece reached into his pocket, popping the lid on his orange bottle. There was no familiar rattle of pain-dulling pills, and Reece glanced inside, his fears confirmed. His supply of Codeine had run out. Reece swore and threw the bottle down the corridor, before whirling around and hurrying back to the stairway. It would be better to vacate the area the Arbok was in.

Once again, the tower-like stairwell rang with footsteps. Reece grunted with every step. The short distance to the next floor felt like a trek up Mt. Silver to the weary detective. He was still driven adequately though, and kept himself occupied by preconceptions of what he might do once he had his quarry in his grasp. However, being thus occupied would have been the end for Reece. There was a loud hiss, and the purple-scaled coils wound about his torso, locking his arms to his chest and squeezing. Almost immediately, black spots danced in Reece's rapidly blurring vision as the oxygen was forced from his lungs with a comical wheeze. Reece sagged in the Arbok's confining coils, gasping for breath and struggling weakly. Off-balance, he fell backwards, still in his hunter's embrace, and rolled back down the stairway, crashing heavily into the wall. The impact loosened the Arbok's grip as it lay stunned with him. Reece recovered slightly faster, crawling away up the stairs, is kneecap protesting. It felt as though he'd been through a printing press, and his knee replaced with lava. The Arbok stirred soon after, as Reece disappeared out of the stairs onto the tenth floor.

This floor was taken up by yet more offices, or so Reece guessed dizzily as he clambered to his feet. The shutters were also closed and locked over the doors, so Reece ducked around the corner of the corridor, spurred on by a ominous hiss that heralded the return of the Arbok.

He backed away down the hallway, desperately tugging at every shutter he passed, even resorting to kicking the wall when the purple length of the Arbok slid round the corner. It spotted him immediately, a triumphant sort of hiss coming from it's throat. Slithering closer, it forced Reece back until he was up against the dead-end of the corridor, hands scrabbling on the wall fruitlessly. Fear consumed Reece like raging waves as the Arbok lunged again. He threw himself aside, screaming as it caught his injured leg in it's maw. His hand smashed through the window that gave a view of the streets below, sending further howling complaints to his brain from disgruntled body parts. Reece whimpered as he withdrew his arm, scraping it over a shard of glass in the shattered window frame.

_I don't want to die.._ Reece thought, closing his hand round the glass. It bit deep into his soft palm, like the canines tearing into his leg, but he ignored it, tugging the see-through shard free and swinging his arm in a great arc.

The glass stabbed into the top of the Arbok's head. A great screech erupted from it as it released Reece's leg, blood spurting from the wound in it's head. Thrashing back and forth like a whip in it's death throes, the Arbok sprayed blood across both walls and floor before it finally lay still. Red liquid pooled around the hood that hung limply, looking pathetic in death. Reece sagged, letting his head rest on the floor. He slipped gratefully into the void of unconsciousness.


	19. Chapter Seventeen: Two Graves

Author's Notes: I did promise not to go on a MONTH hiatus, right? Ahaha, sorry everyone. I got no excuse for being away so long, I really didn't intend to go without updating this long.

But that's all in the past, I'm back on holiday till January, and in the next couple chapters, Arc One will end and more mysteries will gather around our confuzzled protagonist! (The one with the beak.)

This chapter was a tough one to write, by virtue of constant interruptions preventing me from getting into my usual flow, so I couldn't get as into it. Anyways! En-flippin'-joy, mates.

Also! I'd like you all to go check out the story of a mate of mine, D4RKR4VEN. The story is called Silent Hill: Transendence, and it's one of the better horrors I've read on the site!

**Chapter Seventeen: Two Graves**

The first thing Reece was aware of was the lack of feeling. His entire body was numb, just barely able to feel the whipping wind that tore at his flesh. His eyes would not obey his commands, his limbs denied the impulses sent from his brain. It was as though his body had become disconnected from the fleshy puppet strings of his nervous system. The single upside was that he was unaware of the pain that threatened to overwhelm his mind, fed from his injured leg, not that it much resembled a leg anymore. Torn and shattered, it would be a long while before it could be used properly again.

This went unknown to Reece, who focused on trying to open his unwilling eyes. The bitter wind washed over his prone form as sounds filtered into his spectrum of hearing, like a radio tuning into a broadcast signal. Footsteps, light ones, that crunched as if on snow, or gravel. They approached, and stopped beside his head, judging from the proximity of the scuffing sound that resounded in his eardrum. His head was rocked to the side, lolling loosely in it's socket suddenly, as a foot connected with his right temple. He could feel only the odd sensation of his head moving, though not the impact from the kick nor the pain.

The kicker gave a satisfied grunt, as Reece's grip on the waking world began to slip, as if he were clutching at smoke. A voice in his ear dragged him back to consciousness with it's sibilant murmer that dripped with deceptive sweetness.

"Wakey-wakey, Detective. It's not time for beddy-byes yet." The voice echoed in Reece's dazed grey matter, penetrating the fog of numbness that swirled within. It was Lucas' voice. The threat of sleep faded in mere seconds, and Reece redoubled his effort to open his eyes, to regain control of his body. As if expecting such a reaction, Lucas giggled softly.

"You won't be going anywhere anytime soon, handsome. Go ahead, open up those big eyes!" Lucas said, before receding. There was a squeak, before Reece felt his body moving on it's own, lifting up. It was a disorienting experience, until he managed to force his eyes to crack open, allowing him a blurry, incomprehensible view of the world. Everything he saw was a murky blob that blended with all the others. Lucas' footsteps approached again, and Reece felt a hand settle on his shoulder, squeezing softly.

"It's such a shame, but Tyrone won't let me learn from you...Instead he went ahead and placed bombs in the whole building! Such a common way to do it, I'm sure you'll agree. At any rate, handsome, it's time for us to part. You'll have a front row seat!" Lucas giggled again and withdrew his hand, leaving Reece struggling, his body like a lump of metal.

"No point in trying, Reece-y! That's a nerve toxin. You might've finished my baby, but she left her mark on you!" Lucas called as his footsteps faded from hearing. Reece felt hatred swell inside him, as great as it had been before. The reality of the situation had well and truly sunk in, which only fuelled his desire to escape the fate Lucas and Tyrone had set for him. He did not want to die, helpless like a lamb taken to slaughter with no power to avert his own death. Faced with his own morality, death held nothing but fear for Reece, who was glad his jaw remained slack, preventing him from giving voice to the rising scream that strove to be free from his larynx. The defences of his body could do nothing against the toxin mingling with his blood and, in a way, Reece was took small solace from that fact. It meant he would feel nothing as the roaring flame and explosive power of the bombs secreted throughout the Silph building engulfed all in their destructive radius.

Still, he tried to open his eyes again, and succeeded in lifting his weighted eyelids higher. What greeted his restored vision was the skyline of Saffron City, and looking down, the edge of the Silph building roof. He was literally hanging in the void, his form slumped back against a spur of metal that had presumably been placed there by Lucas to stop him falling away from the edge. Reece grimaced as he beheld the distance between him and the concrete below, his stomach giving an involuntary heave. His mind kicked into overdrive, supplying him with flashes of visions depicting his numb body falling to the ground below, splattering into jelly. Dry-retching, Reece strove to make his body respond, and was rewarded with a slight twitch of his left index finger. It was a start, small as it was.

Without knowing how long he had spent trying to move, or how long he had left till the bombs exploded, Reece finally managed to get his entire arms to respond as he willed. With it returned the pain from the laceration in his palm and forearm from earlier, when it had smashed through the glass window, however many floors below. Reece could remember little of his deadly duel with the Arbok, aside from stabbing it through the skull. Wincing as he experimentally shifted, trying to see if he could drag himself away from the roof using just his arms, Reece felt a sting as his right hand closed around the metal at his back.

Halting, he brought his arm in front of his face, examining it, running his cut hand gently over it. There was a small puncture wound in the crook of his elbow, presumably from an injection. Or it could just be a bite from the Arbok, Reece figured. Although, scouring his memory provided no memory of being bitten near that elbow, he decided it must have been a needle.

Pushing aside his thoughts, Reece focused on moving away from the yawning drop in front of him, slipping around the metal spur and dropping face first into the gravel layered over the roof. Grunting as the sharp-edged fragments dug into his face, Reece tried to push himself onto his feet, seizing hold of a nearby AC unit to lift himself up. He was sweating profusely from the exertion, and felt for a more secure handhold. His hand closed over a small sphere, and hope flickered weakly into life as he beheld his two Pokeball. Whether or not his Pokemon still occupied the little circular objects was yet to be seen, so he pressed the buttons set into the Pokeballs' faces and watched as twin beams of red light burst forth, forming silhouettes that faded into their correct colourings.

On the AC unit sat his avian ally Swellow, while sat on the gravel was his slightly less useful Slakoth, who waved a sleepy paw in acknowledgement at his Trainer. Reece felt his face split into a grin momentarily, then sobered up.

"Swellow, I need you to fly me out of here. We don't have much time to escape." He said, recalling his Slakoth while he spoke. The lazy Pokemon seemed all to happy to be returned to it's spherical home-away-from-home, while Swellow cooed softly at Reece and pecked at an object by it's feet. The little black rectangle was Reece's radio, likely broken judging by the silence. He took it anyway, tuning in to Woodrow's frequency.

"Woodrow? You there?" He asked, thumb holding down the send button firmly as he waited for a reply. He had already made up his mind to try three times, then leave without his fellow officer. It was quite easy to imagine Lucas and Tyrone finding the policemen and killing both him and his injured Pokemon. The though made Reece's hate flare again, and he clenched the radio tighter as he tried as second time.

"Woodrow, if you can hear me, answer!" Reece ground out, leaning heavily on the AC unit. His Swellow waddled back and forth, flapping it's wings everytime he spoke loudly. There was still no answer, and Reece was sure Woodrow was incapable of answering for some reason.

"Woodrow, get out of the building. Those Rockets have set bombs, and they're going to blow it up!" Reece said hurriedly, and tucked the radio into his pocket awkwardly, and prodded his Swellow gently.

"Come on, I need you to fly me outta here." He muttered. Swellow cawed in agreement and fluttered into the air, latching onto the back of Reece's jacket and dragging him into the sky. As they ascended, Reece's radio crackled into life, Woodrow's voice barely discernable among rushing wind. Reece snatched the radio from his pocket, jamming it to his ear to listen properly.

"Wilson, you survived! I didn't think you would...anyway, I'm on my way out now. I'll meet up with Clayton if I can, and head back to HQ. Se-" Woodrow's voice suddenly cut off amid a blast of crackling static, and Reece saw his shadow suddenly leap onto the building they were passing. The sound reached the detective and his Pokemon like a shockwave, akin to a approaching tsunami made of noise. A howling crescendo of creaking, groaning metal, splintering windows and, encompassing it all, the dull boom of countless bombs exploding in unison. Reece craned his neck as best he could to peer over his shoulder, horror and awe formed in his gut and grew in every fibre of his being like twin tongues caressing every part of his mind. He felt like vomiting as he watched the Silph building crumble under the destructive energy unleashed upon it's vulnerable, beleaguered structure.

Once standing proud and tall over the rest of the city, the crown jewel of the skyline of glittering monotone diamonds, the gems of modern construction, now tearing apart it's own facade to reveal the ugliness of it's demise. What struck as strongly, if not more, was the realization that every person remaining inside, those still locked away behind the shielding shutters, were perishing, or had already done so. They had hidden to find their salvation, only to be lead to death among the twisted, blackened skeleton of the great beast whose belly they made their trade in.

The small figure of the Swellow and the detective was soon swallowed up by the risen sun that shone it's condolences on the crumpled ruin that sprawled in the heart of the city. Already, news teams were flocking en masse, their paradoxical glee at the prospect of being the first to scoop the story clashing with the devastation the fall of the Silph Co. Building had wrought. Those smaller constructs unfortunate enough to be close by, had been crushed under the weight of metal that descended. The body count was likely high, yet it would be days before the wreckage would be sifted through and every person lost was accounted for.

Meanwhile, two men wearing Team Rocket outfits watched from a handy vantage point some streets away. The one with blonde hair watched with undisguised ecstasy, while the raven-haired man shed a single tear as his binocular-enhanced gaze roved over the spectacle.


	20. Chapter Eighteen: Efficent Escape P1

Author's Notes: And so we reach the end of the arc. A good three or four chapters longer than it was supposed to be, but I like to think you guys don't mind. I find it odd how I keep having these huge chapters with the police being the big main focus, but I guess it's unavoidable with two main characters being in it. Next arc will be better, I promise.

I ended up splitting this in two anyways. I really should stop doing that.

IN OTHER NEWS I will be going to Berlin from the 15th till the 19th, so there will be no updates during this time due to my lack of a laptop and a wireless dongle. In the words of everyone's favourite point-capping Russian, CRAI SOEM MOAR

No interruptions from any obnoxious persons, so enjoy today's super-long chapter. (I don't know how I even call this 'fic Pokemon anymore.)

**Chapter Eighteen: Efficient Escape**

Reece awoke to the sickly-looking face of Jenny looming over his own, as he pulled himself laboriously back to consciousness.

The aftermath of the incident at the Silph Building had swept most of Saffron City into a storm of panicked citizens, cackling media jackals and overworked emergency services. Outside the police compound, journalists of all descriptions clamoured for the scraps of metaphorical meat that Keller threw to them as he attempted to diffuse the growing tension. A thankless job at the best of times, and hellish at the worst, it was most certainly the latter for the aging Chief. The flashing cameras and shouting, insistent voices of the journalists, that overlapped and blended with each other to form some auditory amalgamation that raked at Keller's bandaged head only increased his urge to drive the lot of them off with tear gas and a Plexiglass wall.

That would definitely give them something to think about, he mused, while answering in a deadpan voice the same question he'd been asked by a man three yards to the right of his fellow. Feeling his frustration swell with every words that dribbled from the journalist's mouths, Keller held up his hands and swept the crowd with an icy stare.

"That's all the questions I have time for. Rest assured that we are doing everything we can to get to the bottom of this terrible incident." He called blithely, before turning on his heel and showing the back of his perfectly ironed uniform jacket to the gathered mediafolk. Permitting himself a ill-tempered groan, Keller rubbed at his cloth-covered temples as he strode through the station, bumping into Reece as he passed the staff room. He halted, and surveyed the younger man closely before speaking in a firm, though slightly quivering way.

"Ah, Wilson. Clayton managed to capture one of the Rockets you encountered. They're in interrogation right now, but I need to hear the story from you, as well. Clayton couldn't tell me any more than the three of you left him to battle the woman." Keller let his forehead be in favour of fixing his agate-hard gaze on Reece, who squirmed slightly, while Jenny frowned at the Chief. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be shushed by Reece, who nodded at Keller resignedly.

"Shall we talk in your office, sir? I don't think every man in the force needs to know about all this." Reece asked quietly, looking pointedly at the officer standing nearby, who appeared to take great interest in the carpet all of a sudden. Keller returned the nod, and walked past the pair, not waiting for them to catch up. They remained silent for the trek through the station's hallways, each weighed upon by differing and yet similar thoughts. Keller was concerned only for finding Team Rocket's base as soon as possible, whereas Reece simply wanted to get his hands on Lucas and Tyrone. Lucas' smug face, in particular, haunted his mind whenever it was at rest, enflaming his anger. Jenny, on the other hand, was simply bewildered, horrified, and amazed at the lengths that Team Rocket had gone to, and was determined to bring them under lock and key to a man.

Eventually, they reached the door to Keller office, stuffed away in the back wall of a room full of two by four cubicles of a unattractive khaki colour that starkly contrasted with the laminate flooring and obsidian wallpaper. A trio of windows left glassy voids in the west wall, with Keller's office in the adjoining room at the north.

They trooped inside, settling into the various chairs perched at the desk. Jenny fidgeted, rubbing her hands together in her lap, while Reece slumped back in his own moulded plastic affair, watching Keller with a lazing, slightly disrespectful posture. Keller reclined in his highbacked pseudo-leather seat, steepling his fingers and regarding Reece over the fleshy digits. Reece stared back, fatigue still surfing sluggishly through his body as he rode out the after-effects of the nerve toxin. It was an odd feeling, akin to cramp in his entire body, yet not nearly half as painful. He imagined this was how voodoo dolls must feel, if they were given life. Stuck in a cottony, sackcloth prison, stitched sloppily together with a small twinkle of feeling hinting at something more just out of reach.

But dwelling on the conumdrums of philosophy was not Reece's style, so he cleared his throat raspily, sat up a little straighter, and began to regale his short adventure to Keller, and to a lesser extent, Jenny.

It took the better part of two hours to spin his whole tale satisfactorily, ignoring the gasps and murmurs that Jenny voiced whenever Reece spoke of the more alarming occurrences that he'd experienced. It made the young woman feel guilty not to have been at his side, backing him up like a partner should. Even recovering in hospital was a far from drawn out affair, with being physically uninjured. Jenny had been preoccupied with wild imaginings of what might have been if Reece hadn't got her out when he had. While she didn't want to consider it, some part of her brain found it morbidly interesting, and would not let go of the vile scenarios that her imagination wove, tapestries of torture that came to the forefront of her mind.

Shrugging off her thoughts, Jenny brought herself back into the present in time to hear Keller sniff gently. His face remained wrinkled even after the inhalation had been done with, keeping his face locked as he gathered the words that barely eluded him.

"Well," He began pathetically. "at least you did everything you could. I'm amazed you did so well, to be honest." Keller gave the compliment grudgingly, a sour taste in his mouth that only thickened when he thought that his men had essentially died for nothing. Those injured in the fight at the ambush were meaningless casualties as well, though it galled Keller to admit it. He scratched his cheek, smouldering, while Reece shook his head, looking drained all of a sudden.

"I had a lot of help." He said with a shrug, stifling the yawn that crept up on him. The trio sat in silence, digesting the weight of information, not daring to meet eyes with one another for fear of what may be reflected there. As police officers, it was their duty to be restrained in the application of the law, to put not a single toe over the line drawn by innumerable regulations. And yet, law sometimes seemed to be little more than shackles preventing the course of justice from running full course, and as much as the three police officers denied it, they all entertained thoughts of throwing the rulebook out of the window and bringing criminals down how they saw fit. The fear of seeing that reflected in another's eyes was what made them stare at anything else in Keller's office, and awkward silence settling like a thick, damning blanket draped over their shoulders.

After some time, the office door opened and Clayton stepped in, looking like the proverbial cat with the cream. He folded his arms and leapt lazily against the door frame, a satisfied twinkle in his narrow eyes.

"She told us everything, Chief. It's pretty amazing what a pissed-off Psychic can do, eh? I wonder why we don't have Sabri-" Keller harrumphed loudly, cutting off the officer's speech before standing up from the desk, his chair sliding back with an audible scrape.

"So you know where their hideout is? Get everyone mobilized, we're going to take them down this instant." Keller growled, picking up an faded navy-blue cap from the table and jamming it on his head. He strode from the office with Clayton following close behind, leaving Jenny and Reece to exchange glances. They shared an expression of tense anticipation tempered by a dread that was ever present for those who lay their lives on the line. Hurriedly, they caught up with Keller, following him as the word spread, through PA and mouth alike, that they were heading for the Rocket Hideout.

It was a matter of half an hour to mass the force present in the station, aside from the skeleton crew required to keep the station running in the absence of the majority of officers. Eventually, though, all were gathered in various vehicles, kitted out with light Kevlar armour vests and various firearms ranging from pistols to assault rifles, and massed amounts of Pokeballs. Keller was riding in a cruiser with Reece and Jenny, as he used a megaphone to bark out orders.

"Split up and approach the target building from all angles! There is apparently a single entrance, so expect a chokepoint inside. The Hideout is in Celdaon, so we'll be getting backup from the branch there. We're going to finish Team Rocket today!" Keller's voice blared forth, eliciting a variety of responses from the enthusiastic to the pessimistic and wary. They then set forth, having learned from their last encounter with Team Rocket, and splitting into several smaller groups rather than one big convoy.

On the way to Celadon City, Reece passed the time by watching the world zoom past outside the thin glass that separated him from the rushing, whipping wind. He rested his forehead on the see-through veneer, finding it oddly therapeutic to watch the menial people go about their menial lives, affected only by the shattered wreckage in the center of their city. It was not unlike watching a colony of disturbed ants, in the manner that instead of leaping into a swarming attack, they scurried about in fear that another great titan of their skyline might tear itself asunder and crash down, popping the bubbles of their mini-worlds under the weight of reality. Being forced to accept the inevitability of their own lives, and that everything ends, presented many different reactions that Reece glimpsed as the cruiser sped onto the highway connecting Saffron and Celadon.

Eventually, they arrived in Celadon City, after dodging traffic and blazing past queues with help of the obnoxiously-loud siren perched atop their vehicle like a portable banshee. Emerging into the side streets of Celadon, they joined a pair of trucks filled with Celadon officers, falling in line behind the lumbering transports as they made their way towards the Game Corner.

Within minutes they arrived, to find a slew of cruisers, trucks, and vans parked at mis-matched angels, doors flung wide, with the men and women crouching cautiously, tightly clutching their firearms and Pokeballs. Keller pulled the cruiser up close by a navy-blue van adorned with the Celadon branch logo, and clambered out, spotting the Celadon Chief standing behind one of the handful of trucks dotted about. The truck was side-on to the main entrance of the Game Corner, with a folding table erected nearby. Reece and Jenny followed Keller's lead, approaching the table to see blueprints of the Game Corner. No mention of a secret hideout lay on the blue paper, though nobody expected it to. The Celadon Chief was hunched over the table, talking animatedly to a group of officers wearing riot gear and Kevlar vests. As Jenny and Reece drew closer, they heard Keller introduce, cutting off the Celadon Chief mid-gesture.

Looking at the trio, the Celadon Chief grinned, showing a craggy, albeit fairly smooth and clean-shaven face that exuded a youthful energy. Twin orbs of dull hazel peered at them, scrutinizing closely, before extending a hand marred by a long, thin scar that ran along the knuckles of the man's left hand. Keller took the pro-offered hand, shaking it firmly and moving to stand opposite the Celadon Chief.

"The name's Harris. It's a pleasure to meet such a lovely young lady." He chuckled, tipping his head at Jenny, who rolled her eyes, hiding a smile. Reece grunted, looking at the fairly unhelpful blueprint. Harris followed his gaze and shrugged, spreading his large dinner-plate hands apologetically.

"We ain't got much to work with. I jes' hope yer bird was singin' the right tune." He muttered, scratching his chin, his expression morphing into one of worry. He drew himself up to his full, formidable height, probably measuring around six foot, four inches, and gazed at the Game Corner that loomed before them, seeming to beckon them jovially with it's flashing neon display. Keller was speaking into a radio, confirming the arrival of all of the Saffron officers. Satisfied, he tucked the radio away into his pocket, and fixed Harris with a hard look.

"There's no cause for concern on that, Chief Harris. They're here." Keller growled, adjusting his Kevlar vest absently. Harris nodded soothingly, replying in a voice quivering with anticipation;

"Reckon we should make the first move?" Harris unclipped a Pokeball from his belt. Other than his Pokemon, he carried only a nondescript handgun, as opposed to Keller who was hefting an assault rifle. Jenny and Reece merely had their standard sidearms and their Pokemon partners, like their uniformed counterparts that watched the Game Corner with ceaseless eyes. Keller nodded, wincing as Harris swept a megaphone from the table and his voice boomed forth, amplified by the plastic cone-shaped device he held.

"This is the Kanto Police Force! Every'un inside'll put their hands on their heads, an' file outside in an ord'rly manner!" As the last echoes of Harris' voice faded, the doors to the Game Corner opened, and people began walking out, looking more than slightly disgruntled at having their entertainment disrupted. Officers began moving forwards from their positions to clip handcuffs onto the various civilians streaming out of the Game Corner. Suddenly a gunshot split the quiet, and a Celadon officer crumpled to the ground at the feet of a man wearing a trenchcoat, gaping in shock with blank, unseeing eyes, the round o of his mouth mirroring the bullet hole in his forehead.

The man with threw his trenchcoat off to reveal a Team Rocket outfit, extending his left arm, gripping a ugly, snub-nosed revolver in his gloved hand. Without missing a beat, the officers all trained their varying weapons on the men, with a abrupt cacophony filling the silence left by the single gunshot. A myriad of voice yelled for the Rocket's compliance, while civilians screamed and pushed past their restraining officers to escape the sights of the Rocket, who ignored all the rising noise, taking aim a second time at another police officer nearby. The revolver barked again, spitting death at his target, who took the bullet high in the shoulder, spinning from his feet.

Every man with a clear shot opened fire, the sheer kinetic force from so many impacts hurling the Rocket from his feet, with a few dangerous near misses on the officers still standing close to the Rocket who lay on his back, limbs akimbo. The revolver was spattered with blood, and the jumpsuit, previously proud and resplendent, was little more than a crimson-stained rag on the corpse sprawled on the concrete. Harris groaned, dragging a hand down his face and peering at the corpse with a distasteful expression. Keller frowned, calling over the yelling civilians to be heard.

"I think it's better if we get these civilians out of the way. You can handle that with some of your boys. I can lead the rest inside." He suggested, gripping his assault rifle tightly. Harris nodded wearily, waving down a few of his men to help him load the civilians into one of the trucks. Reece set the safety back on his pistol, having drawn it when the Team Rocket member had identified himself, and holstered it. Gazing at the body with morbid fascination, Reece was reminded of what he had said to Jenny on the pier when they were returning from Cinnabar Island.

_Bang. We all fall down, right? _ He snorted, drawing a glance from Jenny. All that had happened made him contemptuous of himself only a few days ago. The scene at the Lab had shaken him up, made him loose-tongued. He hated talking. It was difficult to articulate exactly how he felt, having seen the things he had. The faces, recognizable or not, of every person he'd seen die would drift before him if he allowed the iron control he held over his own psyche to slip for the barest instant. Often, he would recall in perfect clarity how it felt to view the shell that man left behind. It was a sickening, yet addictively intruiging feeling. He was morbidly obsessed with the stark difference between the body post-death and a regular human being. To him, a corpse was nothing more than a shell, a sad, pathetic shadow of what had once been. It repelled him and attracted him in equal measure. Presumably, morticians felt the same way.

Irritably, he tore his gaze away from the dead Rocket, following Keller as he approached the door to the Game Corner, preceded by ten officers from both Celadon and Saffron. They entered slowly, scouring the entirety of the gambling paradise arrayed before them. The floor was dotted with dropped game coins, drawing a couple of the more furtive men and women to slip some into their pockets. Approaching the rear, Keller began running his hands over the rear wall like a blind man desperately seeking some lost object.

"According to the Rocket woman we arrested, there's a switch that opens up the way to their hideout here." He explained gruffly, while Reece and Jenny joined him, probing at the wall. Jenny blinked as she came face-to-face with a poster saying;

"There is most certainly not a secret switch behind this poster!" Jenny peeled aside the poster incredulously, to spot a small silver pad with a red button in the center. Pressing the button, she jumped as the floor to her right began to vibrate, falling away to reveal a dark set of stairs descending into the earth. The other officers crowded around her, all of whom saw the poster as well.

"What," Reece began, only to be cut off by Keller.

"It doesn't even matter. Let's go." He said, rolling his eyes and clicking on an L-torch clipped to the front of his vest. The others followed suit, and they followed the stairs town into a wide tunnel, blocked at the other end by a large metal door. One of the Celadon and one of the Saffron officers hurried forward when they reached the door, taking small lumps of putty-esque material and moulding them onto the door in a circle, attaching wires. Twin red LEDs blinked into life, signifying a complete circuit. They stepped back, ticked off three seconds with their fingers as the rest unleashed their Pokemon in blinding flashes of red light.

The silent countdown culminated in suitable dramatic squeezes of the clamps that served as wireless activators for the plastic explosives, which detonated with a deafening explosion, blowing a hole in the door, through which each of the officers rushed through, hefting their weapons. The thirteen men and women emerged into a colossal cavern, and a good deal of surprised Rockets. The cavern was filled with a whole complex of rooms serving various purposes, blocked from the officers' sight by concrete walls. One or two of the faster-reacting Rockets seized the black and white Pokeballs at their waists, hurling them into the air to unleash a myriad of Zubat, Ekans, and other Pokemon, with which the police officers' Pokemon immediately began battle. Voices filled the air, drowned out by a blaring klaxon siren, bellowing commands as the Pokemon dove, swooped, slithered, and dodged around each other's attacks, countering with attacks of their own.

Keller looked up at the catwalk running over their heads to see an Admin about to unleash his Pokemon, and brought up his assault rifle. A loud _crack_, and the Admin yelled in pain, toppling from the catwalk to land with a crunch before them. Reece had already grabbed his radio from his pocket, relying on his Pokemon to hold their own for the time being.

"Wilson here, we need some reinforcements! There's at least a hundred Rockets here!" He roared, shooting at the Rockets with his handgun. The officers were spreading out, moving to find some cover. None of the Rockets nearby seemed to have the presence of mind to keep their weapons on them, and as such fell with wounded legs or arms from the officers' firearms. A Tyranitar suddenly burst through the concrete wall before them, roaring in rage. A Rocket emerged alongside it, calling for a Hyper Beam. The green giant dutifully obeyed, a golden orb forming in it's gaping maw, before forming into a beam that lanced into a Pidgeot duelling with a Zubat, detonating in an explosion that billowed smoke like corrosive velvet in great choking clouds. Reece took advantage of the distraction to grab Jenny and drag her out of the way of a Flamethrower fired into the thick of the smoke by a Rocket member's Rapidash. The pair stumbled out of the smoke to see a group of five more Rockets approach the fray, each calling forth either Ekans or Zubat, and were promptly dropped with leg injuries as Reece and Jenny took aim.

Reece's Swellow flapped out of the smoke to shoot at one of the Zubat, raking it with it's talons as it zoomed by. Jenny's Growlithe bounded forward, rolling into a ball and wreathing itself in flame. The Flame Wheel crashed into one of the two Ekans, setting it ablaze and hurling it back where the Rockets had come from. The second Ekans tried coiling around the Growlithe when it unrolled, only to be charred extra-crispy by a Flamethrower that the Puppy Pokemon fired off.

Swellow had knocked it's opponent clean out of the air, leaving the remaining two Zubat to attempt to fasten their fangs on the bigger bird's body. It didn't give them chance, dipping and diving around the catwalks, forcing them to chase it. An errant Shadow Ball careened out of the fray below, where the smoke was beginning to clear, and slammed into one of the Zubat pursuing Swellow, while the other came to a halt, hovering in the air. A high-pitched shriek, inaudible to the humans, burst forth, a piercing wail that made Swellow swerve dazedly into the catwalk railing, and flutter down to the ground, where Jenny's Growlithe leapt forward, clawing the Zubat down as it came in to attack again, fastening surprisingly strong jaws around the Dark Pokemon's wing and whipping his head back and forth, tearing at the wing while the Zubat shrieked loudly, trying to dislodge the Growlithe, buffeting it ineffectually with it's free wing. With a quick wrench, Growlithe tore the wing off, spitting his prize out and fastening his jaws in the Zubat's throat, ripping out it's life with a second bite.

The cave-dwelling creature lay still, drenched in it's own blood, as Reece's Swellow shook off the dazing effects of the Supersonic. Through the hole in the metal door, officers poured like a navy-blue and black tide of furious justice, joining the battle with a fervour. Reece spotted Keller directing a Noctowl into battle, and hurried over to him.

"We've managed to disable most of the Rockets, but more will be coming from the rest of the base. Go find Giovanni, and arrest him. Hopefully the small fry will give up if we get him." Keller called over the noise of the fighting. The pair nodded, heading down the side corridor that a pair of Rockets lay groaning near.


	21. Chapter Nineteen: Efficient Escape P2

Author's Notes: Well now, look who finally decided to update? I am honestly sorry it took so long, but I'm back on track thanks to my latest reviewer. Even in the six months since my last update I've been getting Story Favourite and Author Favourite notifications by a few extremely paitent/nice people, so I decided, with a kick up the arse from BTM707.

Anyway, here we go, end of the arc, hope I kept the skill you guys thought I had!

22:27 approx. six hours after typing begins: Well, sorry. Some friends of mine reminded me of a prior obligation and I was forced to stop right at the end of what I have written for this chapter. As it's half past ten in the evening, and I am suffering from a splitting headache, I will finish the arc tomorrow, with guidelines of what I had improvised written up and saved. I hope none of you mind and that you are just as excited and anticipated as I am for the final of what is now a three part end to the arc. We'll also be finishing on Chapter twenty, my second milestone as well as an even number! Good things may be to come. Until tomorrow, guys.

**Chapter Nineteen: Efficient Escape P2**

**Alternate title: To Protect And Serve**

As they ran down the side corridor of the Rocket's hideout, on the eastern side of B1F, Reece and Jenny each had differing thoughts. Reece's single thought was of revenge. He had come so far, sacrificed so much, seen with his own eyes all the justification he would ever need to feel no shame at wringing the last drop of life from the bodies of every member of Team Rocket he would ever encounter. Each of his steps was driven by that one notion, the fantasy that, however barbaric and gory, was singularly comforting to Reece. The idea of ending the very existence of Tyrone, Lucas, and Giovanni. To understand such an encompassing devotion to this dish best served cold, one must simply look to the closest person to them. Then, one must imagine the loss of that person at the hands of another, and how debilitating it could be. If among the lucky few that would be able to hold themselves together, one might not be in Reece's position. They would have long since resigned themselves to a cushy desk job or some other equally monotonous task, probably unable to deal with the harsh reality of the world, or the chance of failing again. With this in mind, one must also remind themselves that Reece has come very close indeed to not only losing one partner at the hands of the nefarious Rockets, but two. Unforgivable as all their other acts were, from the brutal murder of his previous partner to the massacres and losses they had inflicted since, leading up to the destruction of Silph Tower, they had done the one thing Reece had promised never to happen again.

They had harmed his partner. A single glance at Jenny was enough to firm his resolve. In her, he saw not just a fragment of himself before his own leap headlong down the spiral to destruction, but also the manifestation of hope and purity. It may have been inappropriate in a professional sense, but Reece had long since abandoned professionalism in the face of his desire. Perhaps there was something more to his opinion of her, but he would never admit, consider, or pursue any such emotion. All-encompassing is not a term one should use lightly, but that is what Reece's hunger for revenge was.

Meanwhile, Jenny was not nearly as lost in her own thoughts. All she was thinking of was how glad she would be to see Team Rocket behind bars and unable to cause any more trouble for the world. Jenny's train of thought was as shallow as the puddles formed by a single drop of moisture when compared to the vast sea of Reece's. All that drove her, all that made her sacrifice herself for others and what led her to now, taking hurried strides along the corridor in the heart of Team Rocket's base with an obsessed partner was ignorance. Perhaps ignorance is the wrong word. Jenny wanted little more than to protect and serve, to do her duty with honour and determination. In this, she excelled. In understanding or reasoning why, her noble intentions and deep commitment end. Simply wanting to serve, simply wanting is not enough. She did not believe. She had not seen even a fragment of what Reece had seen. Perhaps this was a good thing, but perhaps not. Relatively young and fresh-faced when matched against other officers, her skill and talent, as well as her plucky attitude, were simply not enough in the eyes of some. To others, this purity was the definition of a good officer. Belief was the thing that separated Reece from Jenny. Jenny did not believe that she could make a difference, that she could safeguard the innocent against the cruel and the wicked, the deceitful and the spiteful. For all her confidence and spunk, Jenny had no experience, no true grit.

And so, one man who expects nothing from a world that has appeared to turn its back on him, and one woman who believes that the world will not be any the different for her actions, way that little could be, and little has been since this day that is told of now. are in a figural coin toss. The fate of everything will, in years to come, be traced back to this single act of defiance against an evil so great, it threatened to change the world. No one was ever aware at the time, but what Team Rocket possessed was dangerous in a way that little had been before, and little would be after.

The pair that ran to meet destiny head on had no idea of what consequences their actions would have beside the foiling of another crime and the destabilisation, for however a brief time, of a major syndicate, and as such they spared no time for a last inspirational speech, nor for a heartfelt promise to see the other through this climactic battle, for they knew that would only give Giovanni more time to escape, and consequently the stolen research project from Cinnabar Island. Instead, they pushed themselves to their physical limits, limbs pumping, chests heaving with each inward breath, sweat beginning to bead at their foreheads. The only sounds that were not made from their headlong rush was the blaring of the alarm from every loudspeaker they passed. The only illumination came from the emergency lights jutting from the ceiling over their heads, the revolving cones alternately shrouding their features in near total darkness and throwing them into sharp relief as the blood-red beam scrolled over their forms.

It was Reece who slowed down first, his knee beginning to ache worse than anything he had ever felt, even the agony in his heart when he had watched the Silph Tower come crashing down that short time ago. It tore at his senses, pushing at the barriers of his tightly focused mind like waves, attempting to wear down his iron will and force him to acknowledge his limit. They succeeded after a time, the only indication a grunt from the police officer, who slowed to a half-jog, the thumping of his boots on the stone floor less pronounced. His knee felt as if it were aflame with agony, burning like the fires of a mighty furnace every time his destroyed cap scraped and scratched against its socket. Finally, he was forced to come to a halt, gasping for breath and feeling tears begin to well in his eyes. The walls of his focus came crashing down as he sucked in a deep breath, reaching down to gingerly probe at the damaged joint, his hand retreating sharply at the resulting stab of pain that ran like a jolt of electricity along his nerves.

Jenny noticed that the steady rhythm of their combined running had stopped she was too focused on their tasks to have seen Reece drop back. Slowing to a halt, she glanced back over her shoulder at her partner a look of worry crossed her face as she hesitated. She took a step towards him, her eyes strained to pick out his face in the half-light.

"Reece?" She asked with no small amount of concern in her voice. "Are you alright? Is it your knee?" She took another step closer, and another, until she was stood next to him, a hand on his back gently. Reece grunted in reply, still taking deep breathes as he hunched over, balanced against the wall with one hand, the other clamped around his good knee as he fought the urge to sit down and rest. He was driven, however, far too driven to do anything for his own good. He drew himself back up, flashed Jenny a ghost of a cheerful smile, and set off once more at a slightly slower pace than previously, pain causing his voice to be ragged and tense.

"Of course! Come on, they'll get away if we stand around chewing the fat!" He called as he went. Jenny frowned, worry making her pause for a few moments, stand still and stare at Reece's departing back. With a jolt, she resumed her original pace until she caught up with Reece and slowed to match his speed. They continued in silence till the end of the corridor, both shaken from their respective thoughts by the onset of Reece's growing disability. They passed an opening into a large hall filled with smashed computer banks, tables and lab equipment scattered around like a child's playthings. In the middle of the chaos stood Lucas, faced away from the pair, his posture relaxed totally, yet triumphant as he held up a hand and clicked his fingers. The sound made Jenny and Reece halt and look around, each reacting to his presence the same. Hands flew to Pokéballs while faces hardened and became grim. However, what they saw next would evoke different reactions all together.

Upon the click of Lucas' fingers, there was a wet crunching sound, almost like a large cookie dunked in liquid being crushed in a hand. Lucas laughed, a shrill, sadistic, sinister sound that chilled the very souls of Reece and Jenny. The Rocket Admin threw his head back and placed his hands on his hips, before he pointed at something the pair could not see, and spoke in such a voice they found themselves straining to hear it.

"Seviper, don't take too long at your feast. We have places to be and more vermin to squash." Lucas laughed again, more quietly and sounding less amused than impatient and eager. He turned on the spot and spotted the two police officers instantly. His signature shark-like grin slid onto his face, and he narrowed his eyes at them like a beast sizing up its prey. Or, as his elongated yet graceful features made it seem, like a snake. He linked his hands together behind his back and leaned forward, his grin became condescending and encouraging, as a teacher's might.

"Well, now. A couple of little micey-wicey stumble into the nest. Such a shame these little mice found the guard and not the patriarch, hmm?" Lucas paused and straightened up, his gaze focusing on Reece intently, his grin growing ever broader as he took a step forward, stroking one of the red-and-white spheres at his waist almost seductively. "Oh, my. It appears that someone has a very strong will indeed, Seviper. My poor little Arbok couldn't even paralyse him long enough to ensure he did not escape. But, then again…I'm glad he did." The Admin purred as he took a step to the left, no longer blocking whatever was behind him. A humungous Seviper, thirteen feet in length and three in width, with gold ridges almost like rounded pyramids deforming its otherwise sinuous and smooth body, smaller golden nubs dotting either side of it along the curve of its belly. Upon its head, another gold ridge jutted from its obsidian black forehead, the curve of its jaw lined with deep purple the colour of a pulsing vein, flanked by more gold scales that shimmered in a shade far duller than they should under the red emergency lights' glare. Upon the great snake-Pokémon's tail was a curved, bony blade of maroon red that was smeared in liquid and scarred with deep scores that were simply channels for the liquid's flow. Twin red eyes stared inexorably at them, a malevolent intelligence twinkling deep in their depths. Hunger such as even Reece, confronted by Lucas' Arbok, had never seen before was present in the Seviper's glare that its favoured meal was of no question. Even further evidence was the bisected corpse of a Celadon City police officer that lay upon the concrete of the wide-open lab, staining the unforgiving material with crimson vitae that was little altered in colour by the revolving lights. The unfortunate man's entrails were spread almost as a buffet upon the floor, and for the first time, the blood that ran in rivulets across Lucas' hands and dripped to the concrete was noticed by Jenny and Reece.

Beyond the horror of such a scene, that pushed the pair to further heights of sympathy, disgust and despair was the quiet groans that emanated from the man at intervals, that punctuated the uneasy silence that had been cloaked over the trio of humans and single Pokémon since Lucas had exposed the view to them. The officer was still alive, hands twitched sporadically as tears dampened his bearded cheeks. His legs lay a scant foot or so away. Lucas spared a glance over his shoulder, and his expression turned to one of feigned disappointment as he shrugged at Reece and Jenny.

"It is always a shame when Seviper fails to kill with the first strike. Such a pity, now we shall have to watch him die before she begins her feast. Seviper abhors living flesh, she will not even bite her prey before its passing. Quite lucky for most, but not for this fellow. It isn't often I get to watch something so…pleasurable, but I will relish this rare event." Lucas said in a sick parody of sorrow, his very tone radiating such a disregard for life that it made Reece only more incensed and Jenny only more disgusted. The sadistic Admin took another step closer, extending a hand to Reece. "However, you're even more interesting. You faced Arbok and lived. No person has ever done so and lived. No one has ever done so and not wriggled and screamed and begged for me to end their pitiful life, so that the pain might stop. I enjoy the moment when the venom reaches their heart and they draw their last breath. The way they stare at me in agony…the way their body seizes up." Lucas paused and closed his eyes, a lustful shudder wracking his body. "It's just so…beautiful. Will you scream for me, Mister Wilson?" Lucas asked politely, as one might ask another for the time while waiting at a bus stop. Jenny stepped back, too repulsed to even respond, a hand clamped over her mouth as a tear leaked out from the corner of her left eye. Every fibre in her body wanted her to run, to escape, to forget the terrible sight of the bearded police officer spot her and mouth a plea for help, too far on the road to death to even whisper. It was a dull shock to an already numb girl when the Seviper's tail-blade suddenly swung at a speed faster than any of the humans' eyes could follow and severed the officer's head from his body. His body ceased all movement. His eyes remained open, still filled with foolish hope at the appearance of friendly faces. Jenny screamed and sank to her knees, unable to look away no matter how much she willed her head to turn, eyes to shut. Witnessing the brutal death of a fellow human for the first time, and so close to the event, had thrown Jenny into a state of pure fear. She babbled denials in a soft, quiet voice as she shook her head furiously, slumped as far forward as she could without losing her balance and collapsing against the concrete. The comfortable concrete that was soaked in blood. Everything was death, he stalked everywhere with hooded face and reaping scythe. Something broke, and Jenny covered her face with her hands, trembling like a leaf in an autumn gale.

Reece was little affected. Some small part of his mind told him he should feel sick, feel sorrow, even be angry at the passing of his comrade in such an undignified, defiled manner. That small part of his mind was ignored entirely, silenced as was the fresh corpse on the floor by a clean, almost surgical cut, in the metaphorical sense. Reece detached himself from rationale and logic, from duty and honour, from protect and serve. He cast off his trappings and inhibitions, his morality and humanity as he would an unwanted coat in the height of the summer's heat. Here at last stood his quarry. One of three, but the rage and lust for revenge in Reece's fading soul whispered to him that the others could wait. Soon, they would also be dead, and his deceased partner would be avenged, all those deaths and shattered bonds given some comfort in that their perpetrator was but a corpse. Everything he had done, all he had bled for, cried for, strove for and accomplished was but for this, the first of three moments. Standing face to face with one of those who had killed his partner. Nothing else mattered. No longer was Reece a protected of the peace, a servant of the people. No longer did he put others before himself, no longer did life or death mean anything to him. No longer was duty put before personal honour, the good of the many forsaken for the good of one. The heat and the blood rushed the Reece's face as he reached for Swellow's Pokéball. He unclipped it from his belt, tapped the button as lightly as a petal might kiss a gravestone in the wind, and felt the sphere push at the confines of his grip. It was a familiar feeling, yet never would Reece enjoy it as much as this again. He widened his stance, boots scuffed quietly against the concrete as the Seviper hissed sinisterly, its meal ignored in the face of this new prey. Lucas withdrew his hand, placed it against his face and smiled, before tracing it down to the buckle of his own belt and sliding it round the curve of his waist to what was presumably the Seviper's Pokéball.

"Come, come. I would hate for your magnificent form to be all roughed up before I have my fun, Mister Wilson." Lucas said sweetly, his head cocked to one side as he regarded Reece, delighting in the roving of his own eyes. Reece felt revulsion stir his bile as his gorge rose. He shook his head once, disgust and hate plain on his face, the once youthful-looking countenance now lined and hardened like the floor beneath their feet.

"You're going to pay for killing my partner. I'm going to tear you and your Pokémon to pieces, and then I'm going after Tyrone. I'll kill him too. And then, I'll finish off your boss." Reece growled as he drew his arm back and tossed the Pokéball in his hand high, the sphere bursting open into two joined halves, tiny screens briefly viewable before an intensely bright red laser lanced forth and formed into the form of Reece's Swellow. The flying-type spread its wings and cawed loudly and challengingly, its beady eyes fixed on the Seviper already. Lucas tutted again, this time his voice carrying a clear and honest disappointment.

"Oh, Mister Wilson. And here I thought we might get to know one another better." He replied with a melancholy, dramatic sigh and bowed his head for a moment. When he lifted his gaze to meet Reece's, the predatory grin was on his face and the dangerous twinkle was in his eyes once more as he pointed at Reece.

"Tear him apart, my beauty." He commanded in a soft, lilting voice. The Seviper bunched itself up and shot forward, tail whipped over its head as it strove to cleave his head from his shoulders with a single blow. A caw from above, the sound of displaced air and the crack of bone against bone split the air as the blue-and-red plumed bird dove down and placed itself between the blade and Reece's neck, its wings glowing a gentle green.

"Steel Wing, not just an attack move!" Reece called to Lucas and smirked as he reached down to drag Jenny away from the battle. "Swellow, use Aerial Ace!" He shouted, passion and bloodlust swamping the honest thrill of Pokémon battling in his gravelly, pain-roughed voice. He tugged the unresponsive Jenny as far as he deemed safe and then let her go, his knee screaming at him and sending pain rushing through his body. He ignored it all, the adrenaline already suffusing his bloodstream giving him the illusion of perfect health as he strode back to the conflict in time to watch his Swellow streak around the Seviper until it could no longer keep up, then dart in and rake its wickedly sharp talons along the Dark-Poison-type's "neck". A loud, enraged hiss burst forth as the Swellow shot by, feet daubed liberally in the black blood of the gargantuan beast. Lucas stamped his foot and shrilled his own command.

"Seviper! Hypnotise the bird! Kill it!" He pushed a lock of hair back from his face as it grew cherry-red with the force of his shout, the Admin folding his arms as he glared at the Swellow hovering some eight feet up. The flying-type was still watching its adversary with one ferocious eye as it flapped its wings slowly to stay above the large snake-like creature, and as such could not turn away it's gaze in time to avoid the sudden lock of eyes with the Seviper. Even Reece's shout was too slow as the beast obeyed Lucas and the Swallow's wings slowly slowed in their beating, until the bird began to fall from the sky. Lucas let loose a scream of "Yes!" as the Seviper shot forward again, the blade upon it's tail once more seeking out a vital spot.


	22. Chapter Twenty: Efficient Escape P3

Author's Notes: Yeah, I'm aware that the chapter is a day or two late. I apologise. Anyway.

End of the arc. Not much to say. Shitty week.

Enjoy the ending. Perhaps there will be an epilogue chapter for this arc before I start the next.

…Whenever I start the next.

On a side note, I recently passed 50,000 words. That's two milestones. Thank you all for putting up with me so far.

**Chapter Twenty: Efficient Escape P3**

**Alternate title: Price of Honour**

Upon the concrete lay a trio of black feathers, spattered with blood that shone in the crimson light that bathed the lab intermittently and caused the word to take on an eerie, nightmarish quality. Another droplet of blood splashed into the floor and left a crazed pattern as the black and red form of a bird crashed with a bone-jarring thud to the ground with a pained caw. The sound of scales scratching roughly against the concrete, scoring the material lightly, resounded in the ears of all present, as did the shrilling alarm above their heads. The Seviper hissed malevolently as it slithered towards the fallen Swellow that lay unmoving and unresponsive as the great beast drew closer, and closer.

Lucas frowned, but only lightly. It was his personal principle not to contort his face in what he deemed to be ugly ways, and frowning was one of those. Nevertheless, he found himself wanting to ruin his flawless features just to express his dissatisfaction with how their impromptu battle had turned out. The Admin considered the battle over, and he felt equal parts irritation and longing well up in his chest as he raised a hand, fingers arranged to click as soon as he decided to. It was the signal for Seviper to strike with her killing blow and end the conflict, and by extension, Reece's life. The blonde-haired man paused for a moment, savouring the expression on Reece's weary-yet-adamant face even as he tutted at the failed potential of the police officer. He had expected to enjoy himself a little longer, but that was not to be.

Lifting his hand high, he clicked his fingers. The snap seemed to echo for an eternity, even though it was all but drowned out by the alarm's blaring call.

Suddenly, Reece's hopeless countenance shifted into triumph as he clenched his fists tightly and felt the blood pump more quickly through his knuckles as he let loose a terrific bellow.

"Now, Swellow! Endeavour!" Upon the floor, the flying-type Pokémon uttered a focused, gutsy caw and sprung up onto its talons as the Seviper coiled up like a spring, only infinitely more dangerous, and exploded forward in a blur of gold and black, similarly-coloured blood streaming from its back in rivulets as the behemoth surged toward the Swellow that responded in kind, wings fully extended, plumage taking on an odd shining quality as it corkscrewed through the air, barely a foot from the concrete blow. The Seviper continued, hardly seeming to register the charge of its adversary. That is, until with a hiss of fury and impotent bloodlust, the beast was forced to halt and swing its blunt head around crazily as the Swellow clamped onto its crown with its fearsome talons. Try as the monster might, it could not shake the Swellow from the ridge upon its head, not even when it desperately slammed its head against the ground in a fit of rage. Suddenly, the Seviper loosed an agonised, rattling hiss that pierced both Lucas' and Reece's ears, both males forced to clap their hands to the sensitive organs and wince, heads ringing from the sheer volume and pitch of the cry.

The Swellow had shifted its grip and used a single foot, ending in those three wickedly curved protrusions, to put out the Seviper's eyes with a pair of quick and precise jabs that punctured the snake's hungry red eyes and deflated them like balloons, thick gouts of black blood erupting forth and painting the Swellow's talons with the liquid, as well as the Seviper's own face.

The cry continued even as the Swellow pushed off of the humungous beast's head and returned to hover in the air near Reece's head, who straightened up and let his hands fall to his sides, blind to the laboured breathing and soft, pained cooing of the Flying-type at his shoulder as he laughed long and loud, a deep and throaty sound that spoke volumes of the police officer's intentions. It was the laugh of a maniac, a dangerous man with little or nothing to hold him back from his chosen target.

Eventually, Reece's humour subsided and he fixed Lucas with a look that was almost a mirror-image of the Admin's own just a short time previously upon spotting both Reece and Jenny. Where the Admin's tapered, handsome features made his blood-hungry glare seem refined and all the more horrifying for it, Reece's face was lined, craggy and hard, as if his features were chiselled clumsily from thick bedrock. He looked simple, not sophisticated. He looked like a killer, and he was but a command away from becoming so. He did not hesitate, merely pointed at Lucas' Seviper and let his face split in a wide, eager grin.

"Drill Peck." He muttered and took a great delight as he watched Lucas' face twist in rage and fear. Nothing in his life had ever satisfied Reec e more than watching his second most hated enemy crumble under the sudden realisation that he was looking at his own death, that he had dodged out of justice's way for the last time. All his evil, monstrous deeds had finally drawn him into the grasp of one who would never show him or his kind mercy, tarring them all with the same brush. Reece was no better than Lucas in some ways, this was something the Admin also understood. He took a small comfort from this, some miniscule victory.

A weak smile played along the man's face as the Swellow wrapped its wings about itself like a cocoon and rocketed towards the blinded, screeching Seviper as it began to revolve over and over, faster and faster until a low hum began to reverberate around the air between the two enemies. The Seviper sensed its approaching doom and lifted its sinuous length up, hissing menacingly in one last attempt to intimidate the Swellow, entirely in vain as the bird simply punched through its open mouth and shattered its skull, head torn to an uncountable number of pieces by the power and speed of the Flying-type's rotating body. A low gurgling started up from the stump where the creature's head had been, black blood literally pouring in a grim waterfall-esque way, the entire length of the Seviper thrashing around crazily in its death throes, only causing the blood to spray further and daub the floors, the nearby tables, and Lucas in gouts of vital fluid. A stunned gasp slipped from Lucas' lips as the blood splashed across his uniform.

No other sound escaped him as Reece crossed the distance between them as fast as he could, delivering a powerful blow to the sadist's diaphragm, fist sunk as far as it would go, crushing the man's flesh against his lungs. Lucas retched, bile dribbling from the corner of his mouth as the Admin dropped to his knees, the pain of the impact insignificated compared to the feeling of his nose crumpling against his skull as Reece planted the flat of his boot against the appendage with every ounce of force left in his body. The shock of the impact made the police officer's knee scream in agony, the joint spasming and locking up. Reece ignored it, throwing himself upon Lucas as he bore the man to the ground and straddled his chest, punch after punch bounced against the ruins of the once-handsome features, blood liberally covering the avenger's hands as he pulped Lucas' face.

Five minutes and seven seconds later, Reece halted. His chest heaved painfully, every breath scraped at his ragged, overworked lungs and he let his arms drop to his sides, still sat upon Lucas' chest. There was no breath to crush out of working lungs, no pain to flood the haemorrhaging brain inside the fractured and cracked skull that was hardly covered by the scraps of flesh that clung to the wreckage that had been a human head. One eye was popped, gelatinous mush spilling out of the bruised and bloody eye socket. The other stared up blankly at Reece, having lost all life and emotion two minutes of furious impacts ago. The sculpted jaw was wrenched sideways as if the Admin was screaming, chipped remains of teeth scattered on the tongue that was covered in blood.

With a sated gasp, Reece got to his feet, unceremoniously using the Admin's corpse to push himself up. He looked at his hands, bloody with both his own and Lucas' vitae. The bone shone wetly under a film of crimson where a tooth had sliced down to the bone as it broke away from the gum. Reece flexed his fist, his broken ring finger popping and scraping in its socket. He winced, a tear of agony slipping slowly down his cheek, though his eyes were so aflame with victory and joy that he scarcely noticed. He raised both fists and stared up at the ceiling, a rabid smile on his face.

"One down." He whispered, before he snapped the Pokéball from the clip set into his belt and recalled his Swallow, which had fluttered around his head in distress the entire time he had ravaged the deceased Admin's face. Now it seemed only too glad to return to its haven in a blaze of blood-coloured light. Without a backward glance, nor a sorrowful moment to grieve for his lost comrade, Reece returned to Jenny and knelt next to her as slowly as he could, in an attempt not to aggravate his knee further. He laid a hand gently on her shoulder, and tried to meet her gaze, to no avail. She still had her hands clamped over her face, though she had stopped crying and shuddering.

"Jenny? Are you alright?" He asked the catatonic girl quietly, surprised when she exploded to her feet and turned away from him. She gripped her arms tightly and whimpered, took a few steps further before rounding on Reece, disbelief and utter terror in her accusatory gaze.

"How could you, Reece? W-what you did was…it was _barbaric!_ He, he isn't just dead, you destroyed him!" She shrieked, shaking her head furiously from side to side, shoulders hitching as she tried to force back the tears, a hiccup escaping her. "The…the worst p-part is…I don't even feel pitying! He killed all those people…I, I just…" She fell silent, hanging her head. Reece got to his feet and laid a hand on her shoulder again, ignoring her attempt to flinch away when she saw the blood smear onto her uniform blouse.

"Don't worry. He didn't deserve your pity, after all. Come on, now. We still have to capture Giovanni." He said gently and squeezed her shoulder once before releasing it. He set off past her, towards the elevator again. Jenny shivered, a nameless fear rattling along her vertebrae. She moved to follow him, nonetheless worried and in despair as she went with him unwillingly.

"Capture?" She asked, suspicion and fear lending an edge to her voice as they reached the shining sheen of silver that was the elevator doors. "Or do you mean kill?" Reece did not reply. He simply punched the call button and stood like a statue in front of the elevator doors, the slight reflection allowing him to see himself, though little detail could be picked out. His chest felt hollow for a moment, and he sucked in a deep breath and turned his head away from his reflection, ignoring Jenny.

After a time, the elevator reached the floor they were on, and with a gentle, almost cheery ding, the elevator doors opened. Jenny stepped inside first, closely followed by Reece who hit the button labelled with a simple "P". P for penthouse, P for personal. Grimly, Reece folded his hands behind his back and waited for the elevator to ascend. With a begrudging rasp of motors working in the complicated pulleys above their heads, and the light crackle of static, the steel cage began to lift up through the bowels of the Rocket HQ. The walls of the elevator rattled, the cube itself being fairly standard in both aesthetic and construction. Unlike a shopping center elevator, however, there was no carpet, no handrail, no mirror and no panelling save for what was part of the cube's walls.

In this bleak and harsh suspense the partners travelled upwards to their goal. Jenny felt less and less confident in Reece as they rose, stolen glances at him and his ramrod-straight form only causing her to ponder and fear him more. The blood on his hands began to coagulate, and formed a reddish-brown skin over his more natural covering. The feeling was peculiar but went ignored, as was so much else, by Reece. A similar ding echoed when the elevator reached the penthouse of Giovanni, the Rocket Boss and ex-Leader of Viridian City Gym.

The doors slid open. There stood a man with raven-coloured hair wearing a long coat over the regular Admin clothing. A full harness was strapped about his body, and clipped to the harness were a dozen lumps of hard, moulded clay. The clay was grey and the pallor of dead flesh. Embedded in the square of clay nearest to Tyrone's heart sat a LED light with wires that ran from it to a small black box. The LED blipped on and off at intervals, matching Tyrone's heartbeat. Reece and Jenny found theirs increasing sharply as they beheld the Rocket Admin with C4 attached to his own body. In Tyrone's hand sat a tiny black device that looked like a grip-tester _sans_ pressure indicator. Instead a wireless aerial coated in plastic topped the device.

"Reece, Jenny. I am so glad you could join me. Sadly, the Boss has had to abscond urgently. You see, he has no intention of being incarcerated. I, obviously, have no inclination to come quietly. If I squeeze this device, it will trigger the C4 charges on my person. The explosion will be quite terrific, it will most likely vaporize me instantly. But that would be so sad. I would shed a tear for myself, but I am not a man who fears death. Instead, as it is equally sad for you, I will weep. The lamentations of a funeral gathering are quite something to be heard. I have never known the sound of the tearful sobbing of my victims, unlike my late colleague. I have never found joy in the deaths I have inflicted. You may find this difficult to believe, but I regret taking every life I have. In particular, I regretted the incident at Silph Tower, but Giovanni was adamant. So much loss…" Tyrone paused to dab at his eyes with a single index finger, wiping his tears into oblivion. He resumed speaking, voice steady and cool as ever. "It saddens me to my very soul. But, I am firmly faithful in Giovanni. He will succeed in his aspirations. There wi-" Reece swung a hand through the air in a cutting motion as he shouted out, drowning Tyrone's monologue out under his own forceful rant.

"Save your damn lies, Tyrone! I could care less where Giovanni is right now, or what he's even up to. I can save him for last. Right now I have you right where I want you, and I will die before I let you get away again. I'm going to have my revenge, Tyrone. I killed Lucas, I'm going to kill you." He growled , hands stretched down to cup the Pokéballs at his waist. Tyrone stared back at him with such melancholy it made him pause. Jenny looked between them, already holding her Growlithe's little spherical home in her hand as he waited with every muscle tensed and every sense alert. She wished the stalemate would end soon. She knew Tyrone could not escape, and that he would either blow himself up and take them with him, or be killed by Reece. Somehow, she had to stop either outcome. Reece wouldn't listen to her at this point, the corpses below were proof enough of that. She could not stand aside either, every fiber of her being told her to prevent the wanton slaughter of Tyrone. She would have him sent to trial for his crimes and true justice be handed out, than this vigilante murdering.

Tyrone shook his head sadly, hand tightening around the pressure-detonator. A fresh tear ran down his cheek as he bowed his head and sobbed quietly.

"Death will claim us for her own." He whispered, before he threw his hand high and clenched the fist holding the detonator. 


	23. IntermissionFeedback Time!

Well, hello once again folks, it's been so long that I don't even remember exactly how long it's been! I truly do apologise for my absence, and unforgivable as it is, I'm gonna ask you to forgive me anyway because I need your help and your feedback. As I said, I want to write an epilogue chapter for this before I start on the next arc/story/thing, but I have another idea, which involves spoiling a tiny bit of the upcoming story. Would you prefer the story to continue on this somewhat dark and gory path it's already on, with more fight scenes and dramatic action and such, or would you prefer me to focus exclusively on fleshing out this alternate Pokémon universe, with Porygon and Mew's intentions/motivation being the main-main focus? Finally, would you like me to mix all of that together and forge on ahead with my plan? (Bearing in mind this plan just might alienate some people as I intended to depart a slight bit further from established Pokémon "canon".) Let me know what you think in a review or PM, please! If you want me to go into further detail, I will try, without spoiling enough of the plot that it becomes dull!

I hope you're all still waiting for me, and I hope you'll enjoy what I have in store. It's great to be back, everybody.


	24. Epilogue: The Seventh Wave

Author's Note: Enjoy the epilogue! Chapter One of my next story will be up on Wednesday, I should think. Yes, it will be another Porygon story, still in this AU that I've "created", and with some developments you all might find intruiging. There will be more Mew, too. (lol u c wat I did thar)

Anyway, see you all Wednesday!

**Epilogue: The Seventh Wave**

The explosion rocked the facility in its entirety, from the upper façade of the Game Corner all the way down to the sub-basement sewer access. Down in the depths of the once-secret base, the light went out again, leaving only the revolving beams of the alarm lights to dance their eery, crimson dance, illuminating corpses and the feebly stirring injured alike. The coppery smell of blood hung thick in the air, the door to the room where Porygon had been sequestered away swinging freely on its hinge, the great banks of monolithic servers no longer humming with a menacing undertone, the status LEDs dark and dull in their lifelessness. In the gloom, Peters adjusted his tie, looking rather fed up with the constant interruption. A Geodude hovered through the aisles like a watchdog made of solid granite, brushing chips from itself. On the tiles nearby lay the corpse of a Celadon officer, one of the few to make it down this far. Blood that had long since congealed clung to his chin, forced from his lungs by the thundering impact of the Geodude's rocky fists. Neither Pokémon nor scientist seemed disturbed, nor even seemed to give a thought for the sprawled husk. Instead, Peters tapped a foot upon the floor, a rhythmic thudding that showed his impatience, in defiance of his smooth countenance. Briefly, Peters' face was illuminated by the alarm light, bathed in vitae red as his features morphed into a frown. The computer that was temporarily holding the cyber Pokémon had been repaired and insulated from the regular power grid, thus continued to whirr quietly, supporting the continued existence of Porygon.

The irony wasn't lost on Peters. Porygon itself was really the only thing keeping him alive right now, his sole bargaining chip. If he were arrested, it was possible he could weasel his way out of prison by triggering the Pokémon's lockout. If Giovanni managed to salvage this abysmal mess, then Peters would simply remind the ex-Gym Leader that Porygon would be uncontrollable without him.

He'd say that, but he was no longer sure. He wasn't entirely aware of what had been going on in that cyberspace domain where Porygon's data slowly became more and more corrupt and fragmented, but he knew it wasn't supposed to be happening. The code had been perfect. Everything, Peters though, had been within ideal parameters. The project had gone according to their most outlandish hopes, but now it seemed to be going down the drain. His Geodude returned to his side, grunting impatiently, causing the scientist to wave his hand irritably. The Geodude grunted again, glancing towards the open door, almost like a hunting hound, statue-still. The floor began to vibrate, though the sound fell upon deaf ears as a much quieter noise attracted the scientist's attention. The faint bleeping of a program alert sounded out like the proverbial dropping pin, as the rate of data corruption increased. Panic gripped Peters like a Hariyama's fist, his throat bobbed and flexed as he swallowed worriedly. His fingers began to thunder across the keyboard, desperately trying to rewrite the failing code manually, his modifications unable to rectify the fault on their own. The vibrating stopped, still ignored. Sweat started to bead at the frantic man's brow as he tried to type faster, and faster, fighting the most futile of battles. Footsteps clicked, still ignored. The rattle of keys grew more intense, the veins stood out on his neck, and still the fragmentation continued, more rapidly than ever. His Geodude cried out and finally, Peters turned, blinking salty water from his eyes as he tried to make out the sudden eclipse that stood in the doorway. Hulking shoulders hunched and Peters swallowed again, tongue swiping across his dry lips. Giovanni had gotten tired of waiting.

"Corruption at one hundred percent. Program structure compromised. Routine failure, process failure, system failure…" As the shrill, lazy voice of the computer continued to list every single one of the dead codes that made up Porygon, Peters staggered back, shaking his head. More time, he wanted to say. I can fix it, his brain screamed, but no words left his paralyzed lips. The chunks of his Geodude crashed through the server banks, electrical screaming marking the final death of the machines as mechanical shrapnel flew, a jagged fragment of casing scything through Peters cheek, making him cry out and flinch.

Before he could regain his footing, he felt a hand at his throat. He could no longer feel solid ground under his kicking feet, ineffectually bouncing against the Rocket leader's shins. By his side prowled the sinuous shadow of a Persian, by the door loomed the menacing outline of a Zangoose, blowing casually on its claws to free them of the last few bits of rock. As the blood, foiled in its effort to flee back to his heart, rushed to his head, Peters tried one last time to explain, but all he could get out was a strangled whisper, and then the tendrils of darkness latched onto his brain, tugging him into the murky depths as his body grew numb.

Giovanni let the man fall at his feet, now more interested in the computer. The powerful fingers tapped at a few keys, to confirm what had transpired. The computer assured him with an overly-cheerful chirp and an error message. Whether he was disappointed or satisfied, his impassive face betrayed nothing. Shoes squeaked as he turned sharply, the click of his sausage-like fingers echoed in the now-silent room. Both Pokémon obeyed the unspoken command, falling in line with nary a sound. And just like that, the leader of Team Rocket disappeared.

In the wake of his departure, some minutes later, the computer bleeped once more. A new alert appeared, informing nobody that the defragmentation process had succeeded. The glow of the monitor faded, leaving the red alarm to solitary duty.

Inside, contained among countless bits of junk data and true fragments of what was formerly Porygon, the core hovered in darkness. It was the sole source of illumination, and yet it could not penetrate the black void of Porygon's data-corpse. From blue, it began to shift colours endlessly, faster and faster, until it appeared to wash through with a rainbow, as though somebody had poured every colour of paint over the spherical shell.

"That went rather well, if I do say so myself." The core said smugly, and the blossoming consciousness was sure that if it had arms to stretch and fingers to crack, it would, just to appear even more cocky. An octagonal eye separated from the colour-fluxing shell and hovered in the void. The eye and the shell regarded each other silently and with the kind of impassiveness only digital constructs could, until particles of blue and flecks of pink bled from the surface of the core's shell, surrounding the eye. With it as its center, the bits became a whirling storm, and as it began to reconstruct the blocky, bi-colour form of Porygon, the eye looked almost pained.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I can display a bit of flair if I like, Rayquaza knows you can't." The core replied to the silent accusation. Porygon said nothing as the second eye blinked into existence. "It worked, didn't it? Both of those fools reckon we're dead, and we've got ample time to get the heck of out of Oldale before any of the coppers make their way down here." Porygon hesitated and stared at the core, which continued to shuffle wetly through colours, and then it nodded. The void gave way to blinding light, and the USB port upon the computer fizzled, the flash drive containing Porygon shooting out of the socket as the Pokémon manifested itself in the real world.

"Right, time to escape." The core murmured to itself, while Porygon rotated on the spot, to look down at the still form of Peters. The Pokémon hovered lower, and inspected the body intently. "Leave him where he is. We don't have time for tearful goodbyes – or did you forget that's the chump that was going to manipulate you to kill a whole bunch of people?" Porygon ignored the question, but returned to its regular hovering height (about five feet up) and made its way out of the server farm. It followed the directions the core gave it, until they came to the elevator doors that guarded the shaft with their silvery bodies. Porygon felt an odd movement inside of it, and the call button exploded in a shower of sparks, the faceplate rocketing across the floor like a jet-powered snowboard.

"Open Sesame." Came the core's self-amused quip, and the doors opened. The yawning shaft lay before them, stretching up to the top floor of the basement, and down until the squat grey box of the lift obscured it. "Down we go." The core said encouragingly, and Porygon hovered through the doors, cutting off his hover program and dropping down the shaft in a pink-and-turquoise blur. Inches from the hatch upon the lift roof, Porygon stopped, and then shot down again, crashing through the thin metal. The doors were already open on this level, more grey walls that hid whatever Team Rocket had going on down here. Through the corridor, Porygon progressed, his brightly-coloured body lit by yet more spinning red beams, lighthouses that guided no-one to nothing at all. Along the cyber-Pokémon continued, in a comfortable silence, the open doors offering teasing glimpses at shattered glass tubes that reached from ceiling to floor, separated by control consoles. Blue goo pooled on the tiles, moulding to the cracks and cement lines, while glowing monitors reported the wiping of all data, burnt and crushed hard drives littered the floor, the detritus of Rocket's departure. Porygon knew only the most high-level of Rockets worked on this floor, and this was where all the truly depraved sciences and plans had lain. Now, though, there was only useless fragments that hinted at what had occurred. Toward the end of the corridor, Porygon felt a pull and glanced to the side, into a room that was still lit. Suspended in cables, a Jolteon hung beside an Elekid. Their glassy, lifeless eyes glared painfully and accusingly at Porygon, who stared right back with unconcerned detatchment. Ethical programs let him know this was unacceptable, a sub-routine designed to keep him devoted to the pursuit of justice did its best to make him consider hunting down the escaped Rockets and bringing them to face regular court proceedings, but despite all these failsafes and runtimes, Porygon "felt" nothing as he turned away from the corpses that powered the room and its equipment with the fading remnants of power sucked from their bodies.

The Pokémon felt a subtle pulse of cheer and triumph from the core, but almost as soon as it became aware of it, the sensation was gone, sealed away behind a wall that Porygon could not penetrate. It still detected the directions that the core sent it, but no more than that. It was alone once more. Oddly, Porygon found itself…relishing the prospect, and hovered along a little faster.

Eventually, the little pink-and-turquoise being halted next to an open manhole, the thick metal cover leant against the wall. Below, puddles betrayed the passage of the Rockets that had fled in their droves. They lead toward the faint sunlight that filtered around the open service door which, presumably, opened out onto Route Seven. The core laughed suddenly, startling Porygon, a feeling that disconcerted it.

"Don't be so confused. I won't spoil it for you, but…" The core's voice dropped to a secretive whisper. "Freedom inspires change in everything." It laughed again, and Porygon could picture it shaking its head amusedly. "He's heading for Vermillion's harbour. Then he'll board a boat and be gone, off somewhere that no-one can find him. Wanna chase him down?" The core asked with such a smug inflection that Porygon knew that it knew the answer already, so it didn't bother to reply. Instead, the cyber-Pokémon began to traverse the passage that would lead them outside of the city.

As it emerged into the sunlight, pink shaded Porygon's vision for the briefest of possible perceptible moments, and the core pulsed joyously.

"Even the after-image…" Breathed the core. Porygon presumed it was just a taunt, and ignored the flash. The sunlight was warm, climate sensors told it, the air was fragrant with the perfume and pollen of flowers and plants, a perfect composition to please the senses it didn't possess. Above, the azure vaults of the sky beckoned, while behind, a plume of choking black smoke billowed upward. Porygon began to ascend, higher and higher until the fluffy white clouds embraced him like the arms of a lover, obscured his optical sensors and spurred him to rise faster. It broke through the clutch of the clouds and rose into the alien world at the summit of the sky, where no other living thing could venture for lack of precious oxygen.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" The core whispered with an odd reverence. "Much better than circuits and chipboards. The world is a wonderful place." And then it was silent again, and shut off. Porygon agreed in its mind and panned around in a slow circle to drink in the contrast of the pure blue, and the pristine white. It "felt" the wind upon its form and bathed in the caress as it flowed past. Freedom, it thought, was indeed a remarkable experience. It ramped up its hover program, enjoying the silence and the solitude, and streaked through the wild blue like a jet. Celadon City was left far behind.

_Thirty minutes ago…_

Tyrone felt the tears roll down his cheeks as he waited for the rush of fire and heat as the detonator turned five pounds of C4 into one hell of a bang. He waited. The tears halted, clung to his shaven skin. His squeezed-shut eyes opened, and he tried to gasp, yet his lips wouldn't obey. His muscles were locked, the hand-detonator just one tiny clench away from obliterating him and allowing him to escape the pain. Across the room, past the desk Giovanni had so often regarded him from, stood the two valiant officers, apparently frozen just as he was. They were encased in pink, and as he stared, he could see their eyes rolling in their sockets, looking from each other to him, expressions of denial, fear, and anger chiselled into their faces. Tyrone looked down at himself and felt the urge to claw at himself as he saw that he was also shrouded in the bubble that moulded to his body, clasped to every contour. The Rocket Admin looked around the room, and yet he could not see the perpetrator of their confinement. Then he saw the opened blinds and the window, and outside...

The explosion rocked the facility in its entirety, from the upper façade of the Game Corner all the way down to the sub-basement sewer access. Up in the ruined penthouse, flames guttered and licked as they consumed what little remained of the room. The heat swallowed up all that it could, destroyed all evidence and left only a charred mess.

All that Jenny felt was warmth. Her brain shut out all else, and her senses were suffused with soothing heat that wiped away her tiredness, her sorrow, her shock, and her hurt. Her confusion melted away, the rage and worry over what Reece had done, replaced with warmth. A quiet trill, almost like a meow echoed in her heart and her ears.

"_Open your eyes, Officer Jenny."_ The voice was calming, it was safe. She had no trouble doing as it asked, her eyelids rose calmly. What met her eyes was anything but safe. She was suspended way up above the Game Corner, levitated in the sky like a ballon. She tried to scream, to kick, to do anything to get away from this hold she found herself in. Slowly, though, amid a gentle mewl, Jenny felt that soothing warmth return and her fluttering heart slowed.

"_Be still…you will come to no harm. Be grateful, you and your friends have been rescued." _As if guided by a hand under her chin, Jenny looked up to see Tyrone and Reece, the former no longer garbed in deadly plastic, no longer with a detonator gripped in his hand. _"Yes, I removed it. Your rugged friend there is in so much pain and confusion, I felt it from very far away. You have him to thank, in a sense. That is two he owes me, however." _Jenny swore she could hear a childish giggle behind her, but try as she might, she could not turn her head. _"I had hoped you would make it, but it seems your required my aid after all. Officer Jenny, do not hate me for this. We will meet again, someday." _The voice muttered somberly, all traces of humour gone. There was a bright flash, and the smell of sulphur and charcoal filled Jenny's nostrils. Before her brain could even comprehend it, she was suddenly crumpled on the hard tiled floor of the Rocket base, along with Reece. Tyrone was nowhere to be seen, but a trail of blood drops gave her enough of a hint that her eyes welled up with tears of frustration and sorrow. It was hard to be grateful that not a scratch marred her body, when she was struggling to understand what the point of the last few hours was. Reece was now a cold-blooded killer, if he hadn't always been, for no real purpose. Tyrone had gotten away, and Giovanni had gotten away, and Lucas was so much pulp. It galled her and saddened her that whatever that thing was, the thing that rescued them, could just manipulate them with such impunity. A groan from her left made her start, shaken from her reverie. She turned her head and brushed a few stray locks of hair from her face, and spotted Reece, propping himself up on his elbows and looking around in a daze. Jenny shuffled over to him on her knees, wiped her eyes, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's ok…I think. I'll go get some help, you stay here." The young officer whispered, turning her head away to avoid having to look into Reece's eyes, for fear he would somehow spot the guilt that swelled in her throat and chest. Reece nodded and laid his craggy, blood-spattered face down as Jenny stood, wobbling slightly as she wandered the corpse-laden corridors, cupping a gloved hand over her mouth to hold off the scent of blood and death. Ascending the stairs into the Game Corner was a relief, despite it the cloying stink of fire extinguisher foam that clogged almost every surface. Apparently, the explosion had knocked out the roof and ignited most of the ground floor. Picking her way through the debris and past brightly-garbed firefighters, waving off offers of help, Jenny stumbled out of the doors and was almost instantly was smothered in a blanket and dragged over to one of the multitude of squad cars. Jenny struggled with the blanket, yanked it from her face only to see Chief Keller staring right back at her, holding her head steady so he could glare at her, unable to disguise his relief.

"Where's Wilson?" He asked gruffly, urgently. Jenny tugged his hands away and shrugged off the blanket.

"Still inside, I didn't let him follow me out because he's still…" Jenny hesitated, wondering if she should tell the truth or not. "Injured. Still hurt from the other day." She said eventually, trying to ignore another onrush of guilt. Keller nodded and left her, no doubt to go yank Reece out and bundle him off to the hospital. Jenny exhaled heavily and reached up with the intent to pull off her cap. Then she remembered, it had fallen off when she'd been dumped inside by that…thing. The officer looked up at the sky, as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes again, trying to swallow down the lump that had lodged in her throat.

_What was that? I'm sure it was real, but…Reece is going to be devastated. I'm afraid of what he'll do. _She thought to herself, letting her head fall, hair draping over her skull and separating her from the world as she sobbed quietly, allowing all the pent-up emotion of the past few days to sluice out of her in a river of tears.

A plume of choking black smoke billowed upward, as the sirens shut off one by one. The crisis was over, Team Rocket had been foiled, albeit at the cost of so much and so many lives. The ambulances sped along to the Cerulean Memorial Hospital, judged as the safest nearby place to take the wounded, an escort of police vehicles flanking them. Inside the belly of one ambulance, Reece lay upon a stretcher, his hand clenched, ignoring his broken left pinky knuckle. He knew his career was pretty much finished once they ascertained he was the one who killed Lucas and his Seviper, and no doubt he would be tried for his crimes.

_All the while, Tyrone gets to scurry back to his boss. _Reece thought angrily. His burning hunger for revenge hadn't yet guttered out to coals and embers, even in the face of the consequences he was to face. To him, it was just something else to delay him, but once it was out of the way, he'd find Tyrone. He'd find Giovanni. And then he'd kill them.

The waves crashed against the rocks, they lapped at the pillars supporting the pier, they rose the boat up one moment, let it fall the next. A hulking man in a business suit watched the smoke rise in the distance as his men, carefully disguised as regular dockworkers, cast off the ropes and rose the anchor, allowing the sleek, personal craft to engage its engines and power out of the harbour. The man picked a loose thread from his suit jacket, rubbed his thumb over the shining metal "R" pin that he wore on his breast pocket. A wide grin split his pointed features and he cast a hand over his slicked-down black hair, uttering a chuckle that rolled over the sea. Below-decks, inside one of the many cabins, Pokéballs swung from a bandolier hung over the coathook, reflecting the cabin light malevolently. The man with the crimson hair allowed a tear to fall down his cheek. Tonight, the nightmares would come again. He counted the waves that dashed themselves into oblivion against the pristine hull of the ship. As the sixth wave died, the man pressed his forehead to the cool porthole glass. As the seventh wave threw water onto the glass, he sobbed.


End file.
